Across The Universe
by DreamersTales
Summary: Three separate universes, eight different lives. What will happen when the Doctor is confronted by the abrasive Winchester's whose answer is to kill everything? What will Rose do about an attractive hunter vying for her attention, and how will Captain Jack Harkness manage to flirt with everyone? And when Weeping Angels come into play, how will the worlds greatest detective cope?
1. Chapter One - Rose Tyler’s POV

**A/N**

 **So this is actually the first story of several. Three main versions, as well as several 'spin off' types. Because I've always been a sucker for crossovers, especially SuperWhoLock. I hope you enjoy this first chapter!**

CHAPTER ONE – Rose Tyler's POV

Most days spiraling through the Time Vortex, a bit of turbulence was normal. Expected even. But when you're anticipating a relaxing day to yourself? Being thrown around your bedroom was the last thing you wanted.

That's why when the jostling of the Tardis throws the woman across the room, her hands reaching out and grabbing ahold of the dresser she had previously been rummaging around in, she was less than pleased. Blonde hair falls in her face while a groan of annoyance escapes past her lips.

"Doctor!"

She calls, the annoyance clear in her tone. He had promised her no more trips this afternoon. She had been looking forward to a long, hot bath and a nice cup of tea, and he was not taking that away from her, even with the prospect of a new adventure.

"Doctor!"

She shouts again, her fingers trailing along the corridor walls as she tries to keep her balance. Making her way to the engine room, the time machine bounces seemingly aimlessly through the Time Vortex.

"Doctor, what-"

Her words are cut off as the Tardis jerks again, sending her flying into the arms of her fellow time traveler, Jack's face beaming down at her.

She couldn't say she wasn't glad he caught her; any time spent in the Time Agent's arms was rarely unwanted. Though he seemed to be content with just about anyone in his arms, so she couldn't allow herself to be too carried away by that charming smile of his.

"Careful, wouldn't want to get hurt."

He chuckles, pulling her into the large room and up to the console with him where a tall man clad in a leather jacket bounces frantically back and forth to the different controls that were flashing and beeping noisily.

"Doctor, what's going on?"

The blonde demands, the alien barely glancing up as he braced himself against the old leather seats and stretched out, his fingers turning a dial around one way before back the other. She had a feeling her relaxing afternoon was about to become exactly the opposite.

"It's throwing a fit! I can't explain it!"

He huffs in exasperation, slamming his hand down on a large yellow button before pulling on a zigzagged plotter.

"Have you tried readjusting the axis on the particle distributor?"

Jack's voice rings out above the noise, his eyes working their way over the various controls.

"Of course I have, I'm not an idiot!"

The Doctor yells back, though Rose catches the faintest glimpse of confusion on the alien's face. Proof that he had not in fact, checked the, what was it, particle distributor?

Regardless as to whatever it was, she knew him well enough to know he'd never admit to his companions that he hadn't thought of a possible solution, just as she knew Jack wouldn't push it.

"See? It's fine!"

He snaps, another heavy blow seeming to hit the machine, sending the three travelers across the room.

"Doctor, it's getting worse!"

Rose warns, wrapping her arms tightly around one of the columns as Jack grabbed a hold of the railing and hung on for dear life.

"I've got that, thanks."

The man states snidely, reaching over and hitting several blue buttons as the machine flipped over, the Doctor grabbing a hold of the console desperately as the machines lights flicker.

"Not helping!"

Jack yelps, the Tardis straightening out as the aliens feet hit the floor. He's about to respond before an explosion sends the machine rocketing backwards.

The sudden change in flight lasts only a moment before the Tardis is crashing and the three are being thrown from their positions, the lights throughout the Tardis simultaneously blacking out.

It's deadly silent for several moments, neither the machine humming nor anyone daring to speak.

As emergency lights begin pulsating, the Doctor is up and kneeling where Rose lies next to the pillar she had been clinging too.

"Are you alright?"

He asks, helping her stand as she touches her head gingerly.

Doing a quick assessment of her own regarding the man, she nods, taking note of the rather excited gleam that he has in his eyes mixed only with a fraction of worry. Honestly, she shouldn't be surprised. This was exactly what he loved, the adrenaline. Though who was she to judge when she was just the same?

"I'm fine, Doctor. Where's Jack?"

Peering around, the man tenses.

"Jack?"

He shouts, only to have silence in response to his calling.

"Jack!"

Rose yells, worry evident on her face as she starts to take a step forward before a pained grunt is coming from the corridors.

"Doctor, you've really got to move that swimming pool. Or at least get doors."

The Time Agent complains, making his way up the ramp, his clothes soaking wet and a large gash above his left eye.

Rushing down to meet him, Rose looks up at him in concern, reaching up and touching the corner of the cut.

Wincing and pulling away from her, Jack smiles a coy smirk down at the woman.

"I'm okay, Rose. Doctor, what happened?"

He asks, turning to look over the girls shoulder at the man who scans everything slowly, taking note of the damage that had occurred before he is bounding back to the console.

"Don't know. Something pulled us here. That, or we caught a nasty Time current and got drug along for the ride."

"Is the Tardis dead?"

Rose questions, making her way back up the ramp while skimming her fingers over the metal railing.

"Nope, just a bit shook up. Whatever happened took a bit out of the old thing. We could wait for it to power back up, or we could see where we are?"

He raises his brows, already knowing what their answer would be as his lips curve up into a grin.

Darting forwards without another word, Rose pauses at the door and looks back, the two men right behind her. Who was she kidding? A cup of tea was nothing compared to this.

Pushing it open, cool air greets the trio. Snow crunches beneath the blonde's feet as she steps out, wandering eyes looking up at the flakes that drift down to the earth where her footprints have marred the otherwise pure snowfall.

Moving further away, Rose turns and gapes at the time machine that sits half crushing a bench outside a set of buildings.

She wondered briefly if the Doctor has Tardis insurance, and if it would cover such things as this.

Usually the Tardis had a better time with landing, so why was this one so rough?

"Where are we?"

Jack asks, shivering in his wet clothes while venturing out next to Rose.

"Earth, England, Rose's time."

"I'm home?"

She asks, looking around in confusion.

This wasn't the Powell Estate though, and typically they landed fairly close to her mum's flat when they were there.

Turning around, wide brown hues land on two men standing a few yards away.

' _Great, damage control time. Think the Doctor can talk his way out of this one?'_

The woman thinks to herself, her eyes moving a bit further and stopping at the dark colored door the two men must've come out of.

"Doctor?"

She whispers, her eyes unable to tear away from what she can't bring herself to actually believe.

"It's Earth all right, but something seems odd."

The Doctor hums, moving around and dropping to the ground, poking at the snow with a look of distaste on his face.

"Doctor, would you listen? There are people watching us, so quit muckin about!"

Rose hisses, catching the offended look the alien shoots her.

"Oi! I'm not muckin about!"

"There's something else, Doctor."

Jack muses, his voice quiet.

"That street sign over there, it says 'Baker Street' and that door those men came out of, did you see the number?"

He hesitates, glancing at Rose as they both look down at the Doctor still crouching in the snow.

"Doctor, the number on the door reads 221b."

Rose murmurs, her eyes moving back to the two men who were now walking towards them.

 **A/N**

 **So I hold such a tender spot in my heart for this fanfiction as I've written it time and again and I just love all eight of them coming together and their personalities mixing. Please give me any feedback, I'd love to hear what you think and anyone who wants to offer advice on how I could improve, or any ideas or theories you want to share, please let me know! ^~^**


	2. Chapter Two - John Watson's POV

**A/N**

 **Chapter two is up! I'm probably going to try and post every week on Monday's, at least that's the goal. With work it might come out early or a little late. But anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter! Let me know what you think and any ideas, questions or criticism you might have!**

CHAPTER TWO – JOHN WATSON'S POV

Waking with a start, the army doctor jolts in his bed, his hands gripping the sheets in terror. Sweat runs down his neck and moistens his temples, a heavy breath exhaling past dry lips. The room is still dark and his flat is silent, something that was rare anymore with Sherlock's constant complaining.

Forcing his fingers to relax, releasing the tight grasp he holds on his bedding, John blinks several times to get his eyes accustomed to the veil of darkness settled over his room. He hadn't been sleeping for days and the nightmares were progressively getting worse.

Sherlock had noticed, just as he noticed everything else. But at least credit was to be given to the detective for not pushing. John wasn't in the mood to talk about what his dreams were about, or why he hated to wear a coat anymore despite how frigid it had been this winter.

Throwing back what bit of his quilt remains on his bed, the blonde runs his hands over his face and up through his hair, swinging his legs over the bed and wavering a tick.

It was over.

He could breathe.

He needed to breathe.

Making his way to their kitchen, he eases his door open and slips through, the early morning giving a cruel reminder that he wouldn't be going back to sleep today. And besides, it wasn't often he got a chance to enjoy the flat alone anymore.

It's done almost mechanically, the filling of the tea kettle and the retrieval of his laptop before he is settling down in his chair. If he was lucky, Sherlock would be asleep a bit longer, and that would allow him to get more of his work done.

As the white screen brightens up his face, John squints and glances at the time. Four in the morning. It was getting earlier and earlier anymore. He needed to do something about all of this.

Leaning back and closing his eyes, the straps tighten around his chest, the weight of the bomb heavy as the next breath is hitched and panicked. The look on Sherlock's face plays through his mind, the way he had been so desperate to rid the vest off of him.

The look they shared before..

The loud explosion next to him makes him jolt, his hands barely catching his laptop before it tumbles to the floor.

His hands are shaking, the tip of his tongue wetting his lips as he breathes shallowly.

The memories were so real.

The heat of the fire felt like it was burning his skin.

It was a living nightmare, his two dreams colliding. Memories from the war playing through his mind and mixing with the horror of what had almost happened at that pool.

The little line blinks almost mockingly up at him from his computer, daring him to write about it.

To relive it.

Again.

And again.

And-

Pushing himself out of his chair, the laptop is set on the table rather roughly before he is striding into the kitchen, pulling the kettle off before it screams. Opening the fridge, John stares in disgust at the poor amount held within.

"I told him to pick up milk.."

He mutters to himself, letting the door slam shut. Taking his mug back to his seat and settling down again, he stares at his computer on the table with displeasure.

He needed to update his blog. He needed to work on something to get his mind off things. But when his flat mate constantly drug him into similar situations, there wasn't really an escape in store for him. And to be fair, most of the time he did thoroughly enjoy it.

Turning to stare out the window, the warmth from the tea helps in calming his nerves. How long he sits like this he isn't sure, only knowing that by the time the world outside begins to lighten, he's on his third cup and has yet to pick his computer back up once.

John watches the soft snowfall dance outside the window, sticking to everything it touches. It would probably be a nice day out, though he rather hoped to stay indoors and just relax. However, knowing Sherlock, he would end up making things insufferable for him.

Taking another slow sip, the familiar creak of the others door alerts the doctor to another soul rising, his gaze traveling to the bedraggled detective standing against his doorframe and staring blankly at the other.

"Morning."

He says, barely casting another look at the raven haired individual.

"You've been dreaming again."

"And you forgot to buy milk. Again."

"How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to make tea."

John states, taking another sip while staring the other man down. He watches Sherlock glance around the room before he is disappearing into his bedroom again, closing the door with a sharp _'click'_ behind him.

Letting out a long sigh, the blonde pushes himself up and wanders over to the window, holding the warm mug carefully as he stares at the winter wonderland growing outside.

It was still fairly early and honestly he was surprised Sherlock had gotten up so soon. Directing his attention to the grey colored sky, his eyes widen at the strange bird that seemed to be unable to fly straight. Leaning forward to get a better view, his eyes widen at the realization that it isn't a bird, in fact. But rather a box.

A box, flying through the sky.

A flying blue box.

He was turning into a nutter, wasn't he?

"What are you looking at?"

Sherlock's voice penetrates his thoughts, John's eyes narrowing as he leans ever closer to the window pane.

"It's coming closer.. what is- shit!"

John yelps, stepping back as the box crashes across the street and into a lamp post, half crushing it beneath its weight.

"John."

Sherlock calls, already out the door as the man quickly grabs his scarf, pulling it on while trailing after his flat mate.

"Good morning, boys, you're up early!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, not now."

John quickly apologizes, rushing out the door and stopping next to where the detective stands frozen.

Exiting the blue box were three people. How they all managed to fit was a big enough concern, but the way the man in the heavy leather jumper was inspecting the snow was even stranger.

"Sherlock, perhaps we shouldn't get involved."

"And what, call Mycroft?"

The man scoffs, striding towards the trio, John muttering under his breath as he trailed behind him once more.

They were watching them anyways, the young woman with them gaping with eyes as wide as saucers. And the second man, he was standing there in clothes that were dripping wet. Who exactly were they, and how had they all fit in such a tight space?

"Hello there!"

The same man who had been in the snow jumps up now, a wide grin plastered on his face.

He was rather tall, with a demeanor that practically bled confidence and knowledge. One look at the detective and he can tell he is already sizing the man up, not even bothering to pay any attention to the other two. Why should he? It was obvious the man with the northern accent was in charge.

"I'm the Doctor, and you are?"

"Doctor? Doctor what?"

John speaks up, the man's eyes flashing in amusement.

"Doctor everything!"

"Sherlock Holmes."

His flat mate interjects, attracting the others interests now. Great, they'd heard of him. Peering around Sherlock to get a look at the other two, he notices that the second man is now holding a handful of snow to an apparent head injury.

"Sherlock Holmes, like the stories?"

The man claiming to be a doctor questions, his eyes as wide as saucers and an overjoyed look on his face.

"Stories?"

John questions, wondering if he meant his blog.

"Captain Jack Harkness. Hello."

The second man speaks now, his American accent different in this area as he extends his hand out to the blonde man, the Doctor frowning next to him.

"Stop that."

"I'm just saying hello."

"It's never just 'hello' with you."

The Doctor chides as the young woman edges forward, her brown eyes unable to pull away from Sherlock.

"You're tellin' me that you're the blokes from those books? The adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson?"

"Books?"

John muses, catching the faint glimmer in Sherlock's eyes as his own roll around in his head.

"Oh good, he needed an ego boost this morning, thanks."

He mutters, looking past the group at the large blue box now. What exactly was a police public call box?

The Doctor and Sherlock seemed to be discussing something quietly amongst themselves, but his own attention was drawn to the strange blue box.

"Rose Tyler, hello."

The woman finally introduces herself, a kind smile on her face.

"John Watson. Though I suppose you already knew that. That's wood. How were you flying a wooden box round the place?"

He questions, walking forward and touching the side carefully as the light on top began to flash. A rather loud and unpleasant sort of wheezing comes from the box, sending the army doctor back a few paces with a startled gaze.

As he turns, the Doctor peers over his shoulder, eyes widening before tearing off to the box. Pushing the door open the man disappears inside, leaving Sherlock standing with the same look on his face that he got whenever John tried to explain anything about the solar system.

"Doctor?"

Rose calls out, her head swiveling to follow him.

"We've got to go! The Tardis is about to take off again!"

The man shouts, his head peeking out and staring at the two men, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"Come on then, plenty of room!"

He chimes, ducking inside as the other two bound in after him. What did he mean by 'plenty of room' exactly? It was a box, a small one. And about to take off?

"Sherlock, I-"

John begins, watching his flat mate take two small steps forward, his hands buried in his coat pockets as he leans in closer to the box.

"Well come on! We haven't got all day!"

The Doctor's voice echoes as Sherlock disappears inside, leaving John sighing heavily.

"Because joining a strange man in a tiny box is completely normal."

John grumbles under his breath, following after the man as always and walking to the door, the warmth from inside inviting him in.


	3. Chapter Three - Dean Winchester's POV

**A/N**

 **So, I really should have said this in chapter one.. But this story takes place during season one of Doctor Who, right after season one of Sherlock, and during season five of Supernatural.**

 **So here is chapter three, and I hope you guys enjoy! Don't forget to please leave feedback, and let me know any thoughts, concerns or ideas you would like to see added! Also I'm sorry for the late update, had a bit of a family emergency, but I'm getting things sorted!**

CHAPTER THREE – DEAN WINCHESTER'S POV

"Sam, hurry up!"

Dean barks, the windows of the Impala rolled down while parked in the middle of an abandoned motel parking lot. AC/DC blares through the speakers as the hunter halfheartedly flips through one of his brother's books. He never understood how Sam could spend so damned much time reading those sorts of things. After an hour he was always exhausted, and had rarely found the information he had actually wanted in the first place.

Tossing it into the backseat with the other things he sighs, turning to open his door before jolting, staring up at a dark haired angel standing before him.

"Damnit, Cas! What have we talked about just popping in unannounced?"

He mutters, forcing open his door and climbing out of the vehicle.

"I don't recall this conversation."

Castiel muses, his head tilting to one side as the hunter rolls his eyes.

"Where's Sam, you seen him?"

"Quit being so impatient, Dean, I was talking to Bobby."

Sam huffs, walking out of the room with his arms piled full of books and old newspapers.

"Got enough research material there, Urkel?"

Dean snorts, a smirk rising to his face as the other two stare at him in confusion.

"Never mind. You ready to go yet?"

"Yeah, just gotta grab the duffel bags. You know, the ones you were too lazy to grab on your way out?"

"You're always saying you should work out more, I'm only helping."

"Screw you, Dean!"

Sam shouts back, trekking back across the pavement as the older leans back against his car, his arms folded across his chest while hissing air out between his teeth. The sooner they got started the better, he felt guilty just being around them.

He'd been considering it again. Saying yes. Just giving in and letting Michael in. He was tired of fighting, tired of the constant attacks from every damned thing that decided to butt into their lives.

"Dean."

After all, what good was he doing anyway? It was the friggen apocalypse and they were here, researching. And if it would solve things, wouldn't it be worth it?

"Dean."

Glancing up at the angel, his eyes narrow and he frowns.

"Stay outa my head, Cas."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

He mutters, his eyes squinting and trained on the horizon above them. Peering up into the early morning sky, Dean's eyes widen.

"Is that-"

"A box."

Castiel nods, watching curiously as Dean pulls the pistol from the back of his shirt, slowly raising it towards the sky and aiming it up at the strange blue box that was spinning, growing closer every second.

"Sammy!"

Dean shouts, backing up a few steps.

"Sam, get out here!"

His voice gets louder, eyes glued on the twirling contraption as it began careening straight towards him.

Firing off three shots, he watches two of them hit the box and mar the paint job, before he is being shoved out of the way and to the ground.

The sound of crunching metal and shattered glass fills his ears as the hunter covers his head, shards from his car's windows falling around him. Pushing himself up, he glances to his side to see Cas lying next to him on the pavement, the angels eyes staring harshly at the blue box. Dean's eyes, however, were a bit more preoccupied with what was _under_ the blue box.

"Baby.."

He whispers, scrambling to his feet, glass sticking into his skin and his clothes. Stumbling towards the vehicle, he stares in horror at the back half of his car now crushed under whatever weight that box held.

"What the hell happened?"

Sam demands, coming to a stop a few steps from his brother and staring with a gaping mouth.

"Dean-"

"It. Killed. Baby."

He mutters out, his gun aiming at the box as he turns around, unloading the rest of his clip into the box.

"Dean!"

Sam yelps, reaching out to touch his arm before he stops, the Winchester's staring at the thin stream of grey smoke curling out from a crack in the bottom of the box. Beginning to reload the clip to his gun, the door to the strange contraption swings open, a plume of the smoke rushing out now as loud coughing echoes out with it.

"What's happened?"

He can make out a woman's voice, her accent clearly English as a young blonde appears, waving the smoke from her face and staring back into the box, oblivious to the hunters that stand only a few feet away.

"I believe your machine developed a fault long before we arrived."

A second voice chimes in, the accent only slightly different from the woman's as the tall man emerges. With dark raven colored hair, a long black trench coat and a blue scarf tied around his neck, the hunter can practically feel the arrogance oozing out of him.

"Or it could be the fact that you pressed the button he explicitly told you not too."

Another Englishman mutters, stepping out and ruffling his hands through his blonde hair. He had a grim expression, and his eyes kept darting back to the box, like he couldn't quite believe that he'd stepped out from it.

"It's not as bad as it seems, right Doctor?"

The American voice is a change, the man stepping out in dark colored clothes, his hair wet and a nasty cut above one of his eyes. With a thick leather cuff on one wrist, and a cocky smirk on his face, he seemed almost amused.

"Not really but- who shot my Tardis?"

The next person cries, looking down at the box in shock as his fingers skim down the exterior. Another Brit, but this one was different. Unlike the arrogance from one, and the confidence of another, he had something about him that just shouted 'in charge'

The man looks around before his eyes finally land on the hunters and the angel, his brows rising as the hunter points his gun directly at the man in leather. Sam is behind him in moments, his own gun pointing at the group as Dean scowls.

"Who the hell are you people? No one came riding through town yelling 'the British are coming'."

The five people raised their hands to various heights, the blonde man glaring at the tall one in the trench coat, an accusatory expression clouding his features. The woman looked wary, and the American, he was staring hard at Cas. The man in the leather jacket however, only let out a slow whistle, looking at his group in an apologetic manner.

"You Americans and your guns, can never be without them, can you?"


	4. Chapter Four - Captain Jack Harkness POV

**A/N**

 **My apologies for the lack of longer chapters. I haven't written a fanfiction on anything aside from Instagram before and kept up with it, so it's a bit more difficult than I had anticipated to really keep up with making things detailed yet still have the flow of the story go smoothly. But I'm getting better, so hopefully my work will reflect that!**

 **Someone asked for me to add in some lovecraftian type aliens and I think that is an AWESOME idea! For this particular story I do already have everything planned out and written to some degree, but I will most certainly be using that idea in a future story, so keep an eye out for it!**

 **As always any reviews, ideas, criticism, and theories are always welcome and much appreciated!**

CHAPTER FOUR – CAPTAIN JACK HARNESS'S POV

"Sorry, but would you mind putting down the gun? I don't care for them."

The Doctor smiles, brows arched at the two men holding weapons on them, seemingly unfazed at the prospect of being shot by the strangers. Though to be fair, it wasn't like this was the most dangerous thing the Doctor had ever accidently stumbled upon, and it was undoubtedly far from the last.

"You'll like them even less if you don't tell me who you are."

The shorter man growls, his colt pointed directly at the Doctor's chest. The leather jacket he wears is dusty and rather old looking, but the way he held that gun was the same way Jack had seen trained military officials hold theirs. Whoever these guys were, they weren't just screwing around for the fun of it, they knew exactly what they were doing.

"Alright, just take it easy-"

Jack begins, taking a tentative step forwards as the tallest of the small group pointed a shotgun at him. The Time Agent pulls up short, his words trailing off at the harsh look on the man's face. Neither of the men seemed bothered by holding a loaded gun on a group of people who appeared to have no weapons of their own. Exactly how many times had they done this sort of thing in the past?

He takes a closer look at the man holding the shotgun, his hair rather long to be working for any type of government, and he was wearing a worn out looking flannel shirt. If these guys had been in the military, could they be soldiers of fortune now?

"I'm the Doctor, hello!"

The Doctor steps forward, a wide grin on his face as he partially turns to the rest of their group, extending a hand out as he began naming them off.

"This is Rose Tyler."

"Hello."

She greets, a small nod of her head going to the men, but the wary smile on her face as she glances towards Jack shows the unease she feels.

"John Watson and Sherlock Holmes."

"What, like _the_ Sherlock Holmes?"

The tall one asks as his eyes narrow in suspicion, like they were trying to pull some sort of trick on him. Despite that, his gun lowers a fraction of an inch, unable to tear curious brown hues away from the detective.

"And-"

"Captain Jack Harkness. Hello there."

Jack grins, reaching out and offering his hand out to them.

"Stop that."

The Doctor chides, a heavy sigh surpassing his lips as his eyes roll.

"Am I not allowed to say hello to anyone?"

Jack pouts, pulling his hand away and looking over his shoulder at the alien who stares him down with that disapproving look he had perfectly mastered.

"Where the hell did you come from?"

The first man barks, his voice gruff and his gun as steady as ever in his hands. He wouldn't actually shoot them, would he?

"Space, obviously. And who are you?"

The Doctor questions, already dropping his hands and striking a friendly pose as though the two guns weren't even there. He wasn't one to be bullied by force, and that was something Jack had always admired. But he could stand to be just a little more cautious around these guys.

"Space?"

The taller of the two scoffs, shaking his head.

"What the hell is that box?"

The first demands now, pointedly ignoring The Doctor's question.

"It's my Tardis. Now, who are you?"

The Doctor asks again, the tone in his voice edging on impatience.

The two men exchange a glance before the tallest is lowering his gun, much to the obvious annoyance of the other.

"I'm Sam,"

He speaks, motioning to the other still holding the colt.

"This is my brother, Dean. And that's-"

"My name is Castiel, I'm an angel of the Lord."

The third man speaks from behind them, a deadpanned expression on his face as he stares. The two brothers let out a collective sigh, Dean's head turning to glare at the man in the trench coat.

They acted as though they had dealt with this sort of thing before, and it always ended the same way.

The Doctor, however, seems highly intrigued by this sudden declaration, stepping forwards with narrowed eyes as he moves closer to Castiel.

Dean's head follows as he moves to the angel, as if he cannot fathom that the man would walk past him while he was holding a gun on him.

"An angel? I've met quite a few of those, but you don't look like any of them. You're neither stone nor digitally animated. You don't appear to have wings either, though I'd suspect those exist in an alternate plain."

The Doctor hums thoughtfully, leaning closer and squinting his eyes as Castiel stands unmoving, staring back with a blank expression.

Jack steps forwards now, risking a cheeky grin once more as he approached the brothers, eyes moving slowly as he looks them up and down. They were rough, tough, and full of a strange sort of fire. Not to mention they were quite nice on the eyes.

"You said you were from space."

Sam begins, his eyes wandering over to where Sherlock stands having a quiet word with John, who keeps giving the men a hard frown.

"That's right!"

Jack beams, eyes dancing over them as he walks even closer, still keeping a watchful eye on Dean's gun and where exactly he was pointing it.

"Ex Time Agent from the 51st century. Hello again."

He smirks, watching with just a bit of dismay as the brunette walks directly past him and straight for Sherlock.

He tries not to take it personally, instead focusing on the other man that he really wouldn't mind getting to know on a more intimate level.

"51st century, huh?"

Dean asks suspiciously, his attention split as he walks slowly towards the vehicle that Jack now notices is half crushed under the Tardis. Was that why he had yet to lower his gun?

"That's right. And those three are from this time frame. Well, I think. What year is it anyway?"

Jack ponders, his body turning as Dean strides past, his eyes skimming over the forest around them before he is doing a double take, his eyes narrowing on a spot several yards away. There, in the trees was-

"You wrecked my car."

Dean growls, his voice terribly calm, yet the anger rolled off of him in waves.

"What?"

Jack murmurs, turning his attention back to the stranger and finding himself face to face with the furious blonde.

"You and that stupid box of yours wrecked my car!"

He yells, his gun waving as Sherlock turns his attention towards them with sudden interest as John tugs at his arm, muttering something inaudibly.

"I really wouldn't wave that around if I were you, you could really hurt someone."

Jack offers quietly, watching the rage build on the man's face.

"Why do you even have guns like that?"

Rose questions, her arms folding across her chest while staring them down. It was clear she wasn't happy at the threat they were presenting, especially with the Doctor otherwise occupied with the angel.

The sudden inquiry brings all three men to an immediate hush, the brothers exchanging a wary look while the self-proclaimed 'angel' looked directly at Rose.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Sherlock mutters, every eye turning to him as Dean scowls.

"Is it? What is it we do then, _Sherlock_?"

He asks sarcastically, the raven haired individual smirking, as if eager to show the stranger his snarky comment was about to be shot down.

"You're hunters of the supernatural."

 **A/N**

 **I swear at some point the chapters will grow in length. Right now I'm still setting everything up buuuuuut it will come! And I'm going to have quite a bit of fun with Jack and Cas in later chapters!**


	5. Chapter Five - Sam Winchester's POV

**A/N**

 **Wow do I suck at posting in a timely manner. I've been horribly sick the past few days but that doesn't offer many excuses ya know seeing as I haven't posted in like a month.**

 **Anyway, sorry for the late post and hope you guys enjoy, I promise I'll get better about updating!**

 **Remember, any comments, questions, ideas, theories, or concerns are always welcome!**

 **CHAPTER FIVE – SAM WINCHESTER'S POV**

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

Dean demands, his gruff voice penetrating the silence as Sam's wary gaze met his.

"Sherlock, what are you on about?"

John hisses, his annoyed expression staring at his friend in both irritation and frustration.

Sherlock says nothing for a moment, piercing blue irises studying the men before the faintest trace of a smirk lights up his eyes.

"The callouses on your right thumb and forefinger suggest frequent use of a blunt object in your exploits. The sigils etched into the back of your car that you thought would go unnoticed is another tell as those are old, used only by the superstitious or the diehard believers. The way you carry yourselves is another tell, shame. How you're always expecting the worst, the way you keep your hand near your gun at all times. You've seen George act like that, John."

"His name is Greg."

He mutters, crossing his arms and staring up at the raven haired man as the detective turns back to the brothers, staring directly at Dean.

"The way you stand in front of your brother suggests an unhealthy, if not deadly, codependency upon one another. The rock salt that sticks to the Doctor's machine is not typical for an FBI agent's weapon, given that's what you try to pass yourselves off as."

"Now wait just a-"

"It's rather obvious, of course. Your ID's sit in an open carton in your front seat, it's a wonder nobody has questioned them before. And your shoes, dried blood that's stained them. Not to mention your hair, you'd never be allowed to get away with that length in any form of government."

He states, waving a hand at Sam.

"And honestly, who reads 'The Four Horsemen' for pleasure?"

He scoffs, a rather pleased glimmer in his eyes as Sam pressed his lips together.

He was good.

Really good.

No one else speaks for a few moments, Rose's eyes wide and curious as she looks them over with a sudden new found interest.

"So you're hunters."

Turning, Sam's gaze focuses on Jack, the man's eyes narrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

"I've run into people like you during my travels. Always thought they were bogus, chasing after the things of nightmares and fantasy. But more than that, they were always dangerous. People always died around them."

"Hang on, you impersonate the FBI?"

John gapes, completely ignoring the part to do with anything supernatural.

"How exactly have you managed that?"

Rose questions, her eyes now on the crushed car, attempting to search for what the detective seemed to find so quickly.

"Look, whatever you think we are, we aren't."

Sam ventures, reaching down and setting the shotgun to the ground.

"You are exactly what I said you were, do you need more proof?"

Sherlock scoffs.

"Sherlock, don't, just-"

"Your clothes, they're old and dusty. You mend them yourselves, and you wash them frequently. Which leads one to believe that you have them ripped often and that they're constantly stained. The dark circles under your eyes are indicative to lack of sleep while the stench of stale beer and grease are proof enough of your poor eating habits."

Sherlock points out, his eyes moving to Sam.

"You reek of blood. Not of normal human blood, no it's too dark for that. The stains on the cuffs of your sleeves and under your nails, not to mention the stench of it on your breath. I myself will admit I don't know what type of mythical creature's blood you've been ingesting but its foul and your friend with the trench coat finds you absolutely despicable."

"Alright, Sherlock, that's enough."

John states, reaching out for his arm only to have the detective pull away.

"Is it? You do your own repairs to your car. You have grease stains on your jeans, and tools in your backseat. I would wager it's due to some emotional value you hold in it. It would be easy to get new cars given what you seem capable to do with false identification but this specific car holds meaning. You travel about a lot, sleeping in run down motels or in your car. Now tell me, _hunters_ , am I wrong?"

Dean looks ready to explode, his expression tense and his grip on the gun one so tight his knuckles are white.

"You think you're so clever, don't you? Some prick who takes the name of a fictional detective and tries to act as if he knows everything in the God damned world."

Dena barks, taking a step closer to the man.

"Lemme tell you this, you friggen douche, you're wrong."

Sam's brows rise at his brother's defiant tone, denying the facts now just out of stubbornness if nothing else.

"Am I?"

Sherlock presses, a sudden amused expression on his face.

"Did you hear that, John? I'm wrong. Fascinating. Am I also wrong about the angel that has moved precisely three centimeters since I started talking?"

He demands as the Doctor perks up, his eyes, and everyone else's, moving to Castiel.

"The stone angel, at the edge of the woods."

Sherlock corrects, his expression bored as Sam peered over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at the strange angel he hadn't noticed before.

"Stone angel?"

The Doctor spins around, spotting the one Sherlock had pointed out.

"Doctor, there's another one over there, by the building."

Rose warns, her feet shuffling and backing up towards the hunters.

"There, near the road, another one."

John speaks sharply.

"Doctor, what are those? Why are they getting closer?"

Rose asks, her voice strangely calm and steady.

Turning to his older brother, Sam gets ready to speak before Dean is lifting his gun and firing at the angel coming out of the woods.

The Doctor spins around in a fury, his hand lashing out and grabbing ahold of Dean's arm.

"Keep looking at it, don't blink, don't even blink! And as for you, shooting it won't work!"

"It's made of stone, Doc. Shoot it enough times and somethin is bound to happen."

Dean scoffs, beginning to realign his shot again.

"Dean, maybe he's right."

Sam ventures, frowning at the disgusted look he receives.

"The answer isn't always to shoot!"

The Doctor counters, his eyes focused on the angel in front of them.

"You got such a problem with guns, then get lost! I didn't ask you to be here, didn't ask you to destroy my car and bring that asshole with you!"

The hunter barks, shrugging the alien's hand off his shoulder.

"Dean."

Castiel's voice penetrates past the others, his form stiff as Sam glances in his direction.

"What?"

"Three of them have disappeared."

He states blankly, his head turning with his eyes narrowed.

"Keep looking at it!"

The Doctor demands, his head swiveling to get a look around. 

"They've taken Rose and Jack."

"John too."

Sherlock mutters.

Sam moves closer, puling Cas with him to form a tighter circle, worried orbs darting between two angels a few feet away.

"Don't blink!"

The Doctor snaps, a strange buzzing sounding behind the younger hunter as his eyes begin burning.

"Have you ever tried not blinking?"

He grumbles, struggling to follow the instructions given.

Readjusting his body, he feels someone shift next to him, his eyes instinctively moving to his brother before back again.

He knew he'd only looked away for a second, a single moment.

Yet standing in front of him now was a horrific stone creature, with its maw open and fangs barred, arms reaching out for the man.

"What the hell are these things?"

Sam demands, stumbling back a step with his eyes wider than before.

"Weeping angels. The lonely assassins, they used to be called."

The Doctor responds, the buzzing coming to an abrupt halt as a cold chill makes the hairs on his neck stand on end.

"No one quite knows where they came from. They're as old as the universe, or very nearly, and they've survived this long because they have the most perfect defense system ever evolved."

His voice moves with him, the Doctor skirting around the group as he spoke.

Sam can't help the way his chest tightens, no longer seeing the raven haired detective out of the corner of his eye.

"They're quantum-locked. They don't exist when they're being observed. The moment they are seen by any other creature they freeze into rock. No choice. It's a fact of their biology. In the sight of any living thing, they literally turn to stone."

Reaching out beside him, Sam's hand meets nothing but empty air, a sick feeling washing over him as he can't find his brother.

"And you can't kill a stone."

The Doctor is behind him now, his voice weighing heavily on the hunter.

"Of course, a stone can't kill you either. But then you turn your head away, then you blink. And oh yes it-"

Silence fills the void, the Doctors explanation and warning left unfinished as Sam stares into the face of the stone angel.

Or rather, one of them.

He was alone, nothing around but an empty parking lot and a load of stone angels bent on killing him.

Wouldn't be the first time angels wanted him dead, but the whole 'stone' thing was new.

Turning around, his eyes land on the Impala, still half crushed beneath the Tardis before he is being ripped from his life, his head hitting something hard before darkness overtakes him.


	6. Chapter Six - Sherlock Holmes POV

**A/N**

 **That moment when you realize you need to go back through and edit all of your previous chapters because they are so bad..**

 **I would've updated sooner but I've been reading Detroit : Become Human FanFiction like I have no other responsibilities in life and yeah.. suddenly it's been four days and I've accomplished nothing.**

 **Anywaaaaays.. All comments and criticism is always welcome and appreciated, hope you guys like this next one!**

 **CHAPTER SIX – SHERLOCK HOLMES POV**

Waking with a sudden start, the consulting detective stared up at the cascading branches of several dead trees looming down over his aching head. When had he fallen asleep in a forest?

Blue hues traveled around the area as Sherlock sat up, hands moving slowly through the blades of grass underneath him as the last moments in the parking lot returned to his mind.

Turning his head to the left, he watched as the leather clad alien knelt down at the base of a tree before rising and bounding over to another one, a strange device in hand. From what he could see of it, it appeared to be a thin cylindrical tube, with a glowing blue orb on the top, and it was making a horrendous noise, sort of like the pained buzzing of a malfunctioning machine.

"You're awake! Your first time jump can be a smidge rough, especially since you're in a different universe. You're fine though, bit bruised."

The Doctor spoke, never once turning from the tree that was evidently far more interesting than the other had been. Despite how dense the forest was, very few trees still had their leaves left on them, and the faint chill in the air nipped at the detective's face. Pushing himself to his feet and brushing off his coat, Sherlock eyed the Doctor warily.

"Time jump, you said. Those angels, they sent us back in time."

"Correct! Not shocked?" The Doctor questioned, spinning around and looking him up and down.

"Not in the least. Sending us forwards in time would have had a cataclysmic side effect I would imagine." Sherlock stated, walking over the man and staring curiously at the device in his hand.

"You know quite a bit." The Doctor responded, encouragement laced through his tone as he beamed at the detective.

"Far less then you." Sherlock countered, a twinge of jealousy woven into the words he spoke, the Doctors eyes moving to the ground, scanning the surrounding area where the other man had previously been lying.

"What are you searching for?"

"Tardis key. It's missing, and I'm willing to bet one of the angels nicked it off me." The alien stated, patting down his jumper in a show.

"The key to your machine, those creatures have it?"

"I'm not too worried at the moment, there are only four of them and they'll have a hard time of it trying to get inside. My machine is enough to last them to the end of the universe though, so getting it back is rather important."

"Obviously," Sherlock muttered dryly, turning his head to look around them again. "Where's John?"

"Don't know. Must be off with one of the others. See, the same angel must have touched the two of us, sending us back to this point in time. Can't be helped that we're separated, just have to hope they're alright. They're all a clever lot, except those brothers, so they should be fine."

"Biased against them, Doctor?" Sherlock arched a brow, watching the man's features tense.

"I don't like guns, or the people who carry them." He replied darkly, a harsh expression clouding his features before he is grinning from ear to ear again, the sudden change in demeanor added to the list of questions and answers the detective was calculating together.

"But that's beside the point, you're Sherlock Holmes! Surely you've got an idea as to what's happening!" He mused, slipping the odd device inside his pocket before folding his arms and raising his brows at the detective.

"You hold a lot of faith in a man you've never met." Sherlock spoke slowly, his eyes catching several things about the Doctor that he hadn't had the opportunity to delve into before.

The disheveled look of his jumper, the way he acted around the brothers, even the look of the inside of his machine had all been points that told the infamous detective several things about the Doctor that had otherwise been left unsaid.

"Ah, but I've read about you. See, there was a man in our universe. Doyal he was named. Brilliant man, bit thick, but what can you expect. He wrote all about you and Watson and your adventures! And you're brilliant you are, so go on. I know you know something already!" The Doctor grinned wider, an excited lilt in his voice as he leaned forward eagerly on the balls of his feet.

Narrowing his eyes at the alien, Sherlock turned away from him, intelligent hues picking up on anything that might come of use to him. As his body turned another few inches, his gaze landed on a statue a ways away as his body froze.

"Sherlock, don't blink." The Doctor spoke from behind him, his voice tense as his hand grabbed the detectives shoulder, squeezing it for a moment after having spotted the same angel Sherlock had.

"What do they want, Doctor?" The man murmured, his eyes trained on the stone angel standing in front of them, its head bowed and hands covering its face.

"Don't you know?"

"I know a great deal of things, Doctor. The actions and desires of strange inhabitants from another world have yet to become a pressing enough matter for me to care." Sherlock stated bluntly, his arms hanging tensely at his sides.

"They feed on time energy." The Doctor offered, moving around behind him in a fashion he could not see but from the peripherals of his vision.

"It's the most humane way of killing you, really. They zap you back in time and feed on all the time you would've spent in the future, but no longer have."

"How far back are _we_ then, Doctor?"

"Not far, a few hours tops. They're weak, merely stragglers. Just like you, I don't think they're even from this universe."

"Then how are they here?"

"Fell through a crack in time, my guess. Fact is, they lucked out seeing as this isn't my universe either. By coming across me and my machine, they found an easy way to feed. That's why they separated us, to gain easier control of the key and my ship." The Doctor explained, his voice taking on an exasperated tone behind the other.

"What exactly are you doing?" The detective snapped, his eyes burning before he is blinking involuntarily. As his eyes open again, the angel is merely a few centimeters from the detective, its hands outstretched and maw open wide into a disgusting snarl.

"Something extraordinarily clever."

"You'd better hurry." Sherlock muttered quietly, his eyes already straining again from the lack of moisture in his eyes.

"Just another couple minutes, hang in there."

"You asked me what I knew, earlier. I'm surprised by your intrigue given what I might have to uncover about a past such as yours." His voice is low, his hands slowly closing into fists at his sides as he heard a falter in the Doctor's movements behind him.

"What do you mean?" The alien questioned, walking a few more steps until he is next to the detective.

"Your eyes, Doctor. They're old. Older than any human could ever be. And not just because you're not of this world. You've been in war. Thrust right into it."

"Have I?" He responded quietly, beginning to fiddle with some object in his hands.

"It's the same look I see in John's eyes when he thinks I'm not watching." Sherlock said slowly, silence falling over the two men as a sudden _'click'_ resonated next to him.

"Run. Now!" The Doctor's voice is loud, sending the raven haired man diving to the right and away from the stone angel as a sudden explosion sent him stumbling forwards.

"Don't stop!" The Doctor yelled, grabbing at the detective's sleeve and dragging him forwards, rock and rubble showering over them as a fearsome screech penetrated through the air.


	7. Chapter Seven - Castiel's POV

**A/N**

 **That moment when you devote all your time to a different fanfiction and realize you should really put some time and effort into your first one.. So here we go! I'm anticipating better chapters for this one from now on!**

 **All reviews are loved and appreciated, and I hope you guys enjoy!**

 **Also, I'd like to apologize in advance if I get certain details wrong; it's been several years since I last watched an episode of Supernatural…**

CASTIEL'S POV

The sudden change in scenery is one the angel is familiar with, his feet landing in a grassy meadow as deep blue hues scour the world around him.

The sun was in a different position, and it was just a bit colder than it had been previously. They'd gone back in time, but to when exactly he couldn't quite place.

"Whoa!"

Turning his head, the angel's eyes land on the Time Agent as he falls to the ground, his eyes wide and a strange smile displayed across his features, almost as if it were one of excitement.

"Last time I had experience with energy like that was when those two Egyptians spiked my drink. Not that I minded of course, it ended up being a pleasant night for all of us if you know what I mean."

He states, peering up at the angel while climbing to his feet. Extending his hand out to him, he grins widely.

"Captain Jack Harkness."

He offers, the angel's eyes staring in confusion at his hand than back up at the Time Agent's face.

"We were previously introduced."

"Yeah, but it can't hurt to go over it again, right?"

The cheeky grin has yet to fade away nor has his hand yet to fall, leaving Castiel responding quietly.

"My name is Castiel, I'm an angel of the Lord."

"Oh I bet you are."

Jack states, smirking at him before dropping his hand and looking him up and down.

"Since when did angels start wearing trench coats? Not that it doesn't suit you, it does."

He doesn't wait for an answer, instead turning and scanning the sparse trees and relatively empty field around them.

"Well I'm not sure where we ended up, but it looks like we'll be walking to wherever we want to go."

He sighs, flipping open a device on his wrist and fidgeting with a few of the buttons.

"Damnit, Doctor," He mutters quietly, turning and standing with his hands on his hips and staring directly at Cas. "So angel, tell me about those friends of yours, those hunters."

"How did you know what they are?"

He questions, never once moving from his previous position, standing just as stoic and frozen as the stone angels had been.

"What, how do I know about hunters?"

Jack murmurs, his eyes squinting as tries to remember.

"I ran into a couple of kids back.. Oh.. Thirty five years from this time maybe? Not real sure, but it was during one of my travels. Met this great girl, had a real knack for this whole hunting thing. Mary Campbell her name was. Thing is, her father didn't exactly like me and never did trust me. Not that I blame him, of course. But I got a firsthand look at what it is those hunters do and let me tell you, I could do without the whole thing."

Jack explains, turning and eyeing the different directions before he makes a nod of his head and begins walking somewhere off to the right.

"We can't be too far from where we started so let's go, the sooner we get back the sooner we can work on getting rid of those angels," He calls, getting a few steps ahead of Cas as he watches the man turn to look back behind him. "You comin? Unless you plan on flyin off."

"My wings-"

He begins, watching Jack hold a hand up in a knowing manner.

"Exist in an alternate plane, I heard. Doesn't matter though, cause we're in this together now, right?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Cas asks accusingly, narrowing his eyes at the boisterous man. He'd already put everything he had on the line for the Winchester's, so what made this complete stranger think he would do anything for him?

"You coulda gone off and left me already, but you haven't. So you've either takin a real shinin to me, or you're planning on using me to get back to your friends. Either way is good for me, just so you know."

He smirks, winking at the angel before motioning for him to follow along.

Castiel frowns to himself, trudging after the stranger reluctantly.

"Where did those stone angels send them? The Winchester's?"

"In separate directions no doubt."

Jack shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets and glancing at the angel. Castiel stares up at the dark haired individual, his eyes zoning in on the cut and bruise forming on the man's forehead.

What had he done to cause such an injury? And what was that strange device on his wrist? Castiel had seen a lot of things throughout his life, but Jack Harkness was something of an entirely different caliber.

"I'm sure they're in good hands, though," Jack continues, focusing on where he was walking. "The Doctor will fix this before it gets too out of hand, and it's not like we were sent very far back either. A few hours at most."

"I've never seen angels like those before. My brothers and sisters look nothing like they did."

"Probably cause they're not real angels. At least, not the ones from Heaven or Hell. I mean, they're just statues, but ones that kill."

"They're aliens."

Castiel states, his arms firm by his side at he stares at nothing in particular, moving along by the mere impulse to keep up with the other.

"Now you're getting it, Cas! Can I call you Cas?"

"Everyone else does."

He says absentmindedly, his thoughts already diverting from their conversation. Were the angels another side effect of the oncoming apocalypse? How much worse could things get? And how were they supposed to work around constantly being sent back in time? They didn't even have the time to be messing with things like this.

Who even were those people who had shown up out of nowhere, and why were they just going along with them? And then there was Sam to think about, and Dean. Neither of which he wanted to leave alone for an extended period of time. Not with Sam's old habits and Dean's pension for letting his mind wander towards saying yes.

"We're in for a potentially long walk, wanna talk about what's on your mind?"

Jack's voice penetrates through the angels thoughts, Cas's head turning to stare at him.

"I do not understand."

"You've got something rollin around in that angel head of yours, do you wanna discuss it?"

Jack presses, a faint smile on his face and an oddly sincere expression in his eyes.

"I am simply distracted by the oncoming apocalypse."

Castiel states blandly, his eyes on the ground as he walks.

"Oncoming apocalypse, that a figure of speech?"

"No, it is not. Sam Winchester is responsible for the release of Lucifer from the cage, who is now pursuing him so as to use him as a vessel."

Jack's steps falter, staring with a concerned gaze at the back of the angel.

"Tell me you're kidding."

"Why would I kid about such a thing?"

The angel demands, standing taller.

"My brother, the archangel Michael, is set on using Dean as his own vessel to bring an end to all of this and to send Lucifer back to the cage in hell."

"So, those boys are.. vessels. For what, an angel and a demon?"

"Lucifer was once an angel himself, and the laws behind that still stand. For an angel to possess a human and use them as their holy vessel, they must first receive the human's consent."

Castiel explains, feeling Jack look him up and down again as what he has said dawns on him.

"So you're.. well I mean, you're a.."

"My vessel's name was Jimmy Novak, and he provided clear consent on allowing me this body."

"Right, well, I can honestly say I didn't see that coming. So what about those Winchester's, they gonna say yes?"

Castiel fell silent, his lips pressing together into a tight line. What should he say? No, the abomination wasn't planning on giving into the devil any time soon, but his older brother was fighting the urge to actually allow the archangel Michael to use him as a vessel?

He had been trying so hard to get through to Dean, to keep him on the straight and narrow, but he was bound and determined to go against everything the angel said. It was infuriating Even more so it was just plain-

"Cas?" Looking up, his eyes narrow as Jack points towards a hill. "We should try that way."

"Fine," He responds, trailing behind the Time Agent once more. "What is it you do, Jack?"

Castiel suddenly pipes up; ignoring the question the man had asked him earlier.

"Me? I'm an ex Time Agent, now I'm just traveling with the Doctor and Rose for a while."

"And what exactly is a 'Time Agent', what do you do?"

"Well, that's difficult to explain so.."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Well so are you. Those Winchester's gonna say yes?"

"Why won't you talk about your previous job?"

"We're just going to go around in circles, aren't we?"

Jack counters, stopping suddenly and folding his arms across his chest.

"We have been going relatively straight this entire time, what purpose would going around in circles have?"

With a slight tilt of his head and his eyes squinting, Jack stares at him incredulously.

"You're not kidding, are you?"

"I don't-"

"You don't kid, yeah, I got it. It's a good thing you're pretty," Jack smirks, grabbing the angels arm and pulling him along again. "Alright, since asking about that.. Apocalypse.. Is off the table, how'd you meet the hunters? They try to kill you or something?"

"No. I raised Dean from perdition."

"Perdition, what like, hell?"

"Yes."

"Dean was in hell?"

Jack's words are shocked; his eyes wide and mouth gaping.

"Yes."

"How long was he.. you know, in _hell_?"

"forty years."

" _What_?"

Jack demands, grabbing the angel's arm once more and pulling him to a stop.

"Wait, I'm sorry, you're telling me that Dean Winchester, that guy I met, the one who can't be any older than thirty, spent _forty years_ in _hell_?"

"Yes."

Pulling his arm free and continuing up the hill, Castiel glances back to watch Jack catch up with him.

"I knew hunters were weird but damn.."

"He sold his soul to save his brother, and was taken to hell a year later as per the deal."

"These aren't real people, are they?"

"I don't understand, of course they are real."

"No I meant, just, never mind."

He sighs, running his hands through his hair.

"Tell me something, why is it that the archangel what's his name, and the devil, are fighting for the Winchester's? I mean, obviously there are billions of other people, and if these boys actually hunt down supernatural things, wouldn't that include angels? So why bother with them?"

"The two of them being vessels was always meant to be, their lineage dates back to Cain and Abel from the bible," Castiel begins, his hand twitching against his side. "Two brothers competing for the Lord's affection, who fought, and one killed the other. Just as Michael and Lucifer have done, and just as Sam and Dean will do."

"So, one of them is going to kill the other? And that's okay?"

"Of course not, that is why they need to say no."

"But they're considering it?"

"No, only Dean."

"Geez.. You know, maybe the Doctor can help with all of this."

Jack shrugs, his hand running down his bare arm as a chilled wind blew past them.

"No one else should interfere, this was started by the Winchester's, and regardless of the things that happen, it will inevitably be finished by them as well."

"You're trying to help them though, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, at least they have you then. You're a good friend, angel."

Castiel's eyes move to the ground, his fist tightening beside him, unable to respond to the sentiment that he wasn't sure was entirely true or not.


	8. Chapter Eight - The Doctor's POV

**A/N**

 **So I've started cross posting my other fanfiction on Ao3, and I'm considering doing the same with this one. I have to go back and edit all the poor chapters though, because they are so far from my best work and I don't really have time for that .-. Then again I don't really have time to write fanfiction in general so….**

 **ANYWAYS**

 **All comments and reviews are welcome and greatly appreciated, as are any ideas and critique!**

 **Hope you guys like this chapter!**

Dirt kicked up from their shoes in large clumps, the two men running from the unholy screeching echoing from the furious stone angel. Dust from the explosion clung to their clothes as they pulled strenuous gasps of air into their lungs, breathing the grimy oxygen deeply and coughing loudly.

Finally stumbling to a stop, the Time Lord looked about, his chest heaving while a rather large grin claimed his features.

Coming to a stop next to the alien, the detective leaned over, his body objecting to the sudden exertion, though his eyes are alive and bright with concealed excitement.

"We should be alright for now."

The Doctor breathed, the clearing they were in leading to a large meadow, with yellowed grass and deep grooves marring its way up the hill.

"What did you do back there?"

Sherlock questioned, shrugging his coat off his shoulders and holding it over one arm as he began rolling up the sleeves of his violet dress shirt in an attempt to cool down.

"Nothing much. I activated a few key minerals and components held within the earth here, mixed it with a bit of tree sap and _boom_."

The Doctor states with a show of his hands, a proud glimmer in his eye as the detective narrowed his own gaze.

"You activated components in the ground? With what, exactly?"

"My sonic screwdriver!"

The Doctor proclaims, patting his jumper down before reaching in one of his pockets and extending the long cylindrical object to the human.

He expects praise for his genius. Perhaps even congratulations on his quick thinking, saving the man from the touch of the angel. Instead, Sherlock reaches out and snatches the device from his hands and turns, holding it closer to his face with brows knit together in confusion and wonder.

"I've never heard of such a thing."

"Course you haven't, I invented it!"

The man scoffs, turning to make a grab for the device that is quickly pulled away again.

"How is it powered?"

" _How is it powered?"_ The Doctor repeats, staring blankly at the detective who fiddles with the piece of machinery."Well, you see it has the, glowy light, and it's got, the extending factor, and it works absolute wonders on locks! Doesn't do wood though. Should really get a wood setting."

The alien fumbles as he tries to speak, his eyes darting over the sonic as if it might answer for him.

"You have no idea how this works? Didn't you create it?"

Sherlock sneers, thrusting the object back at the leather clad individual.

"Of course! It's simply too complicated to explain."

He sniffs, snatching the device back and running his fingers over it as if to assess the damage that might've been caused before he is slipping it back inside his pocket.

"Someone has been through here." Sherlock murmurs, his eyes on a rougher patch of the ground as he kneels, turning his head to one side as he looked down at a mess of tracks left behind. "These, they look like dress shoes. The same ones that the man claiming to be an angel was wearing. And those, over there. Your companion was wearing them. Jack."

"They were here? Just those two?"

The Doctor questions, sprinting around and kneeling beside the other, picking up a blade of grass and twirling it around in his fingers before holding it to his nose and sniffing it.

"Doctor, how is that helping?"

There's a note of irritation in the detective's tone, the alien's blue hues softening just a fraction.

"We'll find them, Sherlock. John, Rose, even those Winchester's."

The Doctor assures the man, his hand clamping down on Sherlock's shoulder before rising once more.

"I'm more concerned with these prints rather than where the others are currently."

The man mutters curtly, pointing down to what he was staring at. Walking closer and leaning his body down, the Doctor stared at the large scuff marks noticeable once brought to attention. It looked as if someone had taken a rather large stone and drug it along the ground. That, or a large stone had drug itself.

"Well then, suppose we'll just have to find them and stop them, while also locating the others."

The Doctor grins, his mood far too cheery for the dire situation at hand, the fake reassurance doing nothing to fool the clever human as Sherlock's eyes brows drew together.

"Have you encountered these creatures before, Doctor, not just heard legend of them?"

Hesitating before he answers, the alien shoved his hands deep within the pockets of his jumper and shrugged.

"First time for everything!"

"You act clever and sure of yourself, Doctor, but how much of that is a charade?" Sherlock demands, rising to his feet and staring the other man down. "You appear to be taking this matter lightly, almost as though you are enjoying it."

"Aren't you?"

The Doctor retorts, his expression becoming somber. Sherlock stares at him for a few tense moments before the faintest trace of a smirk pulls at his lips.

"Fair point."

Is all he says, but the Doctor's grin is returning as he turns a circle and surveys the area.

"There's no weeping angels around, the one I scared off must've run. That, or it knows I don't have my key. Either way, we don't have to worry about them for now and that means we need to figure out a game plan."

The man states, coming back around to face Sherlock.

"Can we even do something about these angels? You said they were made of stone."

"We can. I think. It'll be risky though."

"Risky? How risky?"

Sherlock asks dubiously, folding his arms over his chest with his coat between them.

"Letting them think they have the Tardis." The Doctor frowns, looking down in thought. "If we could get them too.. Yes.. That might work."

"What, Doctor?"

Sherlock demands impatiently, his grimy face as dirty as the Doctor's as he wipes a hand over his eyes.

"It's hard to explain, but trust me, I can fix this."

"Fine," Sherlock mutters, nodding in the direction that the footprints had gone. "Then let's find John."

"Easy!" The alien boasts, pulling the screwdriver from his pocket once more. "I can track them! Gift from the Tardis, you can say. Scans everyone who walks inside, downloads their structural code into my sonic to lead me within three hundred yards of their vicinity."

"You have our structural codes in your device?"

The offended tone is clear in the lilt of the detective's voice, the Doctor inwardly grimacing. Rose had felt similar when she found out that the Tardis had been inside her head. Granted, the scanning was far less intrusive, but humans rarely saw things in such a logical manner.

"It comes in handy for times like these, or when companions run off and get captured or hurt."

The Doctor says carefully, holding the sonic loosely in his hand while Sherlock stared harshly at him.

"What is your machine, Doctor?"

"I told you, it's a space and time machine! You knew that already of course. Just like you knew we were in a different version of your world."

"Your machine, it's alive, isn't it?"

It's phrased like a question, but the way Sherlock says it indicates he already knows the answer.

"Yes, it is."

"How did you acquire such a device?"

"My people invented them. The bigger on the inside? Time Lord technology."

The conversation seemed casual enough, but the way Sherlock's voice edged on accusatory had the Doctor himself remaining cautious. Most people he could lie too, or distract. But with Sherlock Holmes he stood no chance against him.

"I figured as much. I am asking how you personally acquired the machine you have."

"I don't follow."

The Doctor says slowly, knowing full well what exactly the human was asking of him.

"You fail to drive the Tardis with the precise accuracy it requires, bounding from place to place. The way the machine is designed, it appears to need multiple people to steer it properly. Yet you are alone, aside from the other two 'humans' you travel alongside with. I am asking if you stole that machine, if you are running from your people. If you're some kind of outlaw or criminal."

Silence falls over the two of them, Sherlock's questions ringing in the alien's ears as he swallows thickly. Lie. That was what he should do. And yet..

"Yes."

He states calmly, his fingers tightening around the sonic.

"Yes?"

"Yes, I stole the Tardis. It was an older model; it wasn't in proper working order. Actually, I stole it from a museum that's how old it was. And yes, I ran from my people, but not anymore."

"Why not?"

Piercing eyes full of such knowledge yet so very little understanding of emotions and what might happen when one tapped into an unfathomable well stared at the Doctor who felt as if the floodgates were struggling to remain shut.

He hadn't spoken much about the war, not to anyone. He had done his utmost to keep it to himself. To never mention the nightmares. To never mention the flashbacks. He regretted his decision with everything in him. He hated the man that he'd become. And he worked hard to keep the man he once was buried incredibly deep.

Yet here was this man who by comparison was so young. He hadn't been through war. He hadn't had to make the choices the Doctor had to make over and over and over again. How could he possibly understand what had happened, what could possibly happen again someday? How does one even admit out loud that they're the reason their entire race was dead?

"They're dead. All of them."

He says quietly, never once letting his gaze shift from Sherlock's. There's confusion in his eyes, doubt as to whether or not what the Doctor was saying was true or not.

"How did they die?"

He questions ignorantly, not knowing the pain he inflicted with every word, with every inflection of his tone.

"Remember how you said my eyes were old?" The Doctor murmurs, his form stoic and arms stiff at his sides. "That I'd been in war? Well, that's what happened. My people, the Time Lords, they were a part of The Great Time War. These creatures called the Daleks, they killed my people."

Did they? Because they had murdered many, yes. Thousands of Time Lord's . Millions of innocent Gallifreyan's. But they hadn't wiped out the entire race. Hadn't made it fade from existence. Hadn't spent their entire life running from their choices. Sherlock is unusually quiet, simply staring at the Time Lord as if he were pondering something.

"Any more questions?"

The Doctor asks, staring at the detective with a bit more animosity than had previously been there.

"You're the last of your kind, that's what you're saying?"

"Yes."

"How did you manage that?"

Pressing his lips together in a thin line, a heavy sigh finally surpasses the alien's lips.

"Look, I'd love to sit down with a cup of tea and chat about the extinction of my people, but currently there's a bit more of a pressing matter to deal with. Mind if we take care of that first?"

Arching his brow, the Doctor prays the man will let it go. Just for now. Just for a little while. He needed to focus on the task at hand, not get lost in his memories revolving around that awful time.

"Your sonic can locate the others?"

Sherlock relents, with a fair pout on his face as he turns slightly away, eyeing the markings on the ground once more. Breathing a faint sigh of relief, the Doctor nods.

"Just point in the air and-"

His words are cut off by a shrill scream in the distance, barely audible but carried over the rolling hills with a chilled wind.

"That was Rose."

The Doctor murmurs, his head snapping to the left as another scream rips through the atmosphere.


	9. Chapter Nine - Rose Tyler's POV

**A/N**

 **That moment when you find yourself in possession of a beautiful guitar, and you're so excited to learn, but life is crazy and you have little time for writing let alone any extra activates..**

 **Never grow up, and for the love of everything never accept a full time job with management positions, it freakin sucks.**

One moment, the woman is standing with her arm against Jack's, the next, her hair is in her face and she is falling forwards, knees digging into cement and her hands scraping against gravel.

Sitting up, scratched hands that carry the slightest tremble push her hair out of the way; light brown eyes scanning her surroundings.

Quite a ways in front of her seemed to be the leftover ruins of an old amusement park, set about in a clearing and away from the forest and trees that she'd seen previously near the rundown motel. Standing slowly and brushing off her jeans, she hears a loud voice begin cursing.

"What the hell was that?"

Turning her attention behind her, intrigued irises widen, staring at the barrel of a gun pointed directly at her face.

"We moved."

She says calmly, her head tilting to look at him while trying to avoid the sight of the gun. Indicating to the ruined park behind her, she folds her arms and gives him her best 'get ahold of yourself' look.

"And what the hell were those, those things?"

He sounds agitated, stunning green eyes darting back and forth as if trying to locate someone else.

"Stone angels? I'm not sure, but they're gone, so I don't think we need to worry about them for right now." She shrugs lightly, attempting to play it off as nothing but a mere inconvenience. "We should take a look around, perhaps the others are there."

Rose offers, using every bit of courage she had to turn her back on the crazy man holding the gun and walking forwards towards the strange amusement park.

"Yeah, let's take a look around the creepy assed park, sounds like a great plan."

Dean scoffs, the woman's head looking over her shoulder to see him remaining frozen in his previous position.

"Are you coming?"

"Think I'm good. My life is already a living hell; I have no interest in walking straight into a horror movie on top of it."

Frowning, Rose rolled her eyes before walking once more.

"Suit yourself! But if the others are there, you're the one missing out!"

She calls over her shoulder, her arms wrapping around herself as she hears heavy footsteps trailing behind her.

"The only reason I'm even still here is because you have a better idea of what's going on than I do."

He states sharply, the gun hanging by his side, but still tight in his grasp.

"So what is it you do again?"

Rose questions, slowing her steps to fall back beside the Winchester and match his own pace. Maybe she had been hanging round the Doctor for too long, but she didn't care for the way he was still clinging to his weapon. What had the Doctor said, Americans and their guns?

"We're hunters, my brother and I."

"And you hunt the unnatural?"

He nods, eyes trained on where they were headed. He still seemed angry, or was that surly nature of his how he always was? He had been the one most upset about what happened to his car; did he blame her for that? She hesitates when he raises his gun, showing her the body of it while he speaks almost distractedly.

"Rock salt rounds. Won't kill you, but it'll hurt like hell."

He shrugs lightly, lowering the gun once more as Rose barely nodded her head in understanding. So, they never killed humans? Or they just preferred to cause pain?

Her head swam with the strange information, finding herself strangely wishing these were aliens they were dealing with, rather than angry humans.

"Why do you guys do it? It seems dangerous."

The blonde presses, tilting her head towards him as a scoff leaves his lips. He says nothing for a moment, his head turning to look around at the park they find themselves in now.

"If we don't do it, who will?"

He states harshly, though Rose sensed the tone wasn't directed at her, but rather the atmosphere. She remains quiet for a few minutes, their footsteps crushing shattered glass and bits of debris as they walked, looking around at the various rides and dilapidated buildings surrounding them.

"What about you?"

Dean suddenly speaks, his attention turning back to the blonde.

"What about me?'

She demands, watching the smirk that drifts over the hunter's face, making him seem far less threatening.

"Why do you travel with those guys?"

Thinking about it a moment, Rose drops her arms and lets out a quiet hum. Traveling with the Doctor had been the best decision she'd ever made. Even if it was dangerous, and scary at times, it had fulfilled her life in such a way that she could never fully describe.

The people she had helped, the places she had seen. The aliens that would forever be part of her memory. But then again, she would never in a million years be able to describe such things to the man walking beside her.

"Tell you what; I'll trade you an answer for an answer."

"Deal."

He agrees, though Rose wasn't entirely sure if the look on his face was apprehension or not.

"It's exciting," She shrugs, as if that were the best she could do. "Every day is a new adventure. All of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was."

Smiling fondly, her eyes stare at the sky as they walk.

"He helps so many people, every day. Saving whole worlds and races. Honestly I'm just a bit of a tag along, but I help, as does Jack. And just being a part of it is the best thing. The Doctor shows you a different way to live your life. One where not everything has to be what you might've thought. One where people live, and thrive. And it's fantastic."

She says, her eyes sparkling while looking up at the hunter. Dean had a strange look on his face, one that studied her with such vigor that it caught her off guard and made the breath hitch in her throat.

"Sounds exciting."

"It really is," She says softly, turning her attention away from him and clasping her hands behind her back. "How long have you and your brother been doing this? This.. Hunting."

She asks, watching a grim look pass over his face as he stopped, staring at a half dismantled Ferris wheel beside them. It was sad, despite the early morning sunlight bathing the two of them; the whole place just bled a gloomy state of being.

"Since I was five. Sammy, he didn't know about it until he was older. I tried to keep him away from it for as long as possible, tried to give him a normal childhood."

He says, his voice falling softer as he tucked his gun behind his shirt for the first time since the Tardis had fallen from the sky.

"Why?"

Rose keeps her voice gentle, attempting a soothing tone as much as she could. He was too young to have done those things himself, which meant his parents had drawn those boys into it. She wasn't sure which bothered her more, the fact that Dean had never had a choice, or the fact that he had worked so hard so young to keep his little brother from it all.

"Cause once you're in this life, there's no retiring. You just die. And most of the time, it ain't a picnic."

He sighs, the resigned nature of his words only depressing the young woman further. He didn't even seem to care at this point. It was as if he knew how his life would end, and that it didn't even matter. How could he live like that? How could he even think like that?

It hurt her knowing he must've been through so much. If her mum had known those boys, she would've scooped them right up and taken them away from it all, no matter how hard it would've been. She almost wished she had the opportunity for her mum to meet them. Though at this point, the unbearable flirting her mother would play at would just be embarrassing.

"I get two questions now."

Dean interjects, cutting off the train of thought before moving on again, the woman trailing behind him.

"Okay, shoot."

"You got a boyfriend?"

The question confuses Rose, before she is smiling, staring up at him in a playful manner.

"Strange question to be asking."

"I don't think so."

He smirks, arching a brow as her hand reached up to her face, fingers brushing against her forehead.

"I did, yeah. I mean, I do. Sort of."

She stumbles out, a melancholy excuse of a smile rising as she walked faster.

"Lemme guess, you left him to travel."

She only nods her head in response, pausing outside a partially burned building with a sign indicating it had once been a house of horrors.

"What was his name?"

Dean asks, backtracking until he stood near the entrance with her.

"Mickey. Mickey Smith. Hang on, did you see that?"

She points, leaning forwards to stare deeper into the old building where she had seen something go past. Before she can stop him, the hunter's gun is retrieved once more from its place in his back, as well as a slim flashlight from his front pocket. Loading a bullet into the chamber of the gun and holding it up, Dean began walking through the entrance.

"Sam?" He calls, his voice loud and gruff as Rose shook her head, following after him despite herself. "Hey Cas! Sammy!"

His voice booms, the hunter's feet creeping up the steps as Rose looked around warily.

"Doctor?" She calls herself, their voices bouncing around throughout the room before getting lost in the depths of the ruin. "You do this a lot?"

Rose asks softly, moving closer to Dean and keeping a watchful eye on the trained manner he moves with the gun and light.

A soft grunt is all the hunter does in acknowledgement to what she's said, before there is a sound of scuffling, and something is running past their feet.

"Son of a bitch!"

Jumping back, Dean's gun points and follows after a rat skittering across the floor and back behind various props as Rose smiled faintly.

"You hunt monsters, and evil, but you're scared of a mouse? Would you have preferred a ghost?"

She teases, the man's eyes narrowing as he lets out a slow breath.

"Yes."

Walking along further throughout the building, Dean sighs quietly.

"This is what I get for leaving my phone in the car."

"I have my mobile."

Rose offers, digging into her pocket and pulling out her device and holding it out to the hunter.

"Can you get ahold of my brother? Or that douche wad you travel with?"

Pursing her lips at the name calling, Rose pulls her phone back and lights up the screen, illuminating her face just a bit.

"I never even thought of trying this sooner." She shakes her head to herself, beginning to type a few numbers. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You should consider traveling with us, at least once. I think you'd fair well."

The laugh that leaves the man's body is short and sharp, brilliant green eyes turning to look down at her.

"Nice thought, Rose, but no."

The hunter states as her phone began to ring from the call she put out.

"I still think-"

Her words cut off suddenly as Rose is one moment standing beside the hunter and the next she is falling on her face while her body tumbles forwards, rolling down the side of a hill as the phone fell from her grasp.


	10. Chapter Ten - John Watson's POV

**A/N**

 **So, I've never actually found anything regarding how John was actually injured in the war. They don't discuss it much in the show that I remember, and I've looked through the books and not had much luck there, either. So no, the scene is not accurate. And I kind've majorly suck at writing war scenes.. But here's my take on what happened to him during that time and just bear with me through it.**

 **Any ideas thoughts or criticism is welcome and appreciated, sorry this chapter took so long guys. Hope you enjoy!**

All he remembers is shooting pain, and the echoes of that Winchester's voice. One moment he had been standing with his back pressed against Sherlock's and the next he was falling. He hadn't dropped far, but he'd felt his skin tearing, and the warmth of blood soaking his sleeve, and as his eyes closed his mind was nothing but memories of the war.

 _He'd known from the beginning he was more than just the medic. In war, you couldn't stick to just one position. If it was you, and the guy you were with, and that guy was down? You took over. It was just the way things worked._

 _Unfortunately for John, he'd found that he was skilled in both fields, with being both medic, and soldier._

 _He'd killed people. Pulled the trigger of a gun and watched as he took someone's life rather than saving one._

 _It was surreal in a way he couldn't quite explain. And every time he would tell himself it was his last one. He was a doctor; he wasn't going to kill anyone anymore. And then a cry would sound, and gunfire would destroy any illusion he had of what kind of man he was. And that's where his life had become a revolving door of trying to make up for the lives he stole with the lives he saved. But even he knew that's not the way it worked._

 _Holding his gun closer to his body, he maneuvered his way through the field while staying low to the ground. A couple of their boys had been shot down a few miles away and they had asked John to accompany the men going out to find them in case they were still alive and in need of immediate medical attention._

 _Glancing to his left, he watches as one of the soldiers makes a motion, indicating two were going to the right, and he and John were going to the left. Following behind, the medical bag pulled over the man's shoulder beats out the same rhythm the men walk too._

 _There's an odd tension in the air, making it feel like every breath was drawn with a sense of finality, and John's hand tightens over the gun. Had anyone else felt this dread?_

 _Stepping carefully over a branch, John's eyes flicker to where they're walking, his breathing low and steady despite the panic gripping his chest. He'd learned to remain in control of his nerves in moments such as these, given they weren't the type of situations one could freak out over and still be alive to reassess the next day._

 _Moving his head up and fixing his eyes ahead, he watches the man in front of him stop, eyes darting back and forth. He can feel the way Mack's nerves tense, winding tighter and tighter while waiting for something, anything, to happen._

 _There's a breath of ease, as if a monster had suddenly walked past them and graciously allowed them a few minutes more of life, and then all hell breaks loose._

 _The sudden pop of Mack's gun firing has John raising his own weapon, sinking back behind a tree as Mack follows after him._

" _Damned ambush!"_

 _His voice hisses, but there's fear in his eyes. Mack spoke tough, but he was twenty three, and he'd left his girlfriend with the promise of marriage when he came home, and the fear is palpable in his eyes. Bullets lodge themselves into the bark of the trees where the men take shelter, and John lets out a low grumble._

" _If those men were alive, they're not anymore."_

" _We need to go back, that way is obviously cut off."_

" _But they'll know where we came from; they'll cut us off through there, too."_

 _John counters, his eyes moving back and forth until he motions with his head._

" _Back where Cardinal and Jaril went, if they haven't been found then that still poses an escape route."_

" _And if they have?"_

 _John's expression sobers as he readjusts his gun in his arms._

" _Then we're dead."_

 _The boy says nothing, instead nodding his head and waiting for John to lead the way. Making their way carefully back along a trail woefully lacking in cover, John is relieved to hear the occasional gunshot getting further away._

 _For once, John felt as if someone had answered his prayers. They'd be okay. Those boys he was supposed to save hadn't been so lucky, and he felt guilty over that. But he couldn't deny that little inkling of hope that was budding inside him as he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding the past few minutes._

 _After surveying the open field that was between them and their freedom, John makes a motion and starts out. They're three fourths of the way out when he hears Mack's panicked cry, and the sound of a bullet flying from its chamber, the sound far closer than they had been before._

" _Watson!"_

 _That was his downfall. As the doctor turns to aid his friend, another shot rings out, and his body is falling._

 _The pain is agonizing, like fire eating away at flesh. Searing torment that inched its way through his entire being, biting at the nerve endings and causing his vision to dip and sway. His heart is pounding loudly, the thrumming in his head matching the weakening beat._

 _All he can see through the blurred out world is red and black and the gunfire sounds like bombs dropping all around him. Heavy boots stomp towards him, and the army doctor's eyes begin to fall closed while the blurry barrel of a gun moves directly in front of his face._

 _He prepares himself for the worst, knowing that at least the pain he feels won't last much longer if they plan to kill him. However instead of hearing the shot go off, he hears a strange grinding noise, as if a machine were trying to breathe. As his eyes close completely, there's a low grunt, and someone dropping next to him._

" _Dr. Watson?"_

 _A voice urges, a hand on his uninjured arm, trying to shake the man into action._

" _Dr. Watson?"_

"Dr. Watson!"

John's eyes pull open quickly, wide blue hues staring up into concerned hazel orbs crowded by dark brown hair.

"Dr. Watson, are you alright?"

The American accent is the first thing the medic notices, the second being the trees as he moves his gaze to just behind the man.

He tries to recall what happened, shifting against the tree he leans against as pain radiates through his arm, traveling up his shoulder and down through his fingertips. He can still see that privates blood seeping into the ground, and feel the heated muzzle of the gun aimed only inches from his face while-

"Dr. Watson?"

Flickering back to the present, the man shakes his head slowly and looks down, his left arm wrapped crudely in blood coated flannel.

"What-"

"We were transported by those stone angels. You landed over there, but you were falling and your arm caught the limb of that downed tree."

Leaning his head back, John nods.

"It hit the artery, I remember."

"I did what I could, I got the bleeding to stop, but I'm not a trained professional like you are."

The man shrugs, his eyes glued to the every move the doctor makes. Glancing back down, John reaches up and moves part of the dressing before looking back up at the American in shock.

"Where did you get the thread?"

"Oh, I keep a kit on me at all times. Dean and I both, with what we do it's needed pretty often."

The man says, a small smile rising to his face. He had to be nearing on thirty, but the expression on his face made him look like a kid, excited to finally open their presents on Christmas morning.

"You said your name was Sam, right?"

The hunter nods, running blood stained hands down his dirty jeans.

"What is it that you do again?"

John questions, shifting again as bark dug into his back.

"We're hunters,"

Sam explains, leaning back against a stump and propping his arm up on his knee.

"We hunt anything that goes bump in the night. Poltergeists, wendigos, demons. You name it, we can kill it."

"You're telling me that in this, reality, werewolves and vampires exist?"

"They probably exist in your world too, Dr. Watson. You just have never seen them."

Frowning in thought, John shook his head.

"If they did exist, Sherlock would find some way to logically explain them."

"Maybe. Others have. But once you know about these things, it's hard to overlook them."

"Why do you look so nervous?"

John questions, his brows drawing together as he looked over the man. He'd picked up a few things from his excursions with Sherlock, and while he wasn't nearly as gifted as the detective, John felt he could hold his own.

"What do you mean?"

"You're anxious. You're tapping your fingers, like a nervous tick. I used to see men in the army doing that to control their nerves."

"I think that's really cool, you know? What you and Sherlock do. I'm a huge fan of the two of you. I read all of your books when I was a kid."

"Trying to change the subject as well. You're guilty about something."

John remarks, moving his arm carefully and biting back a pained groan.

"You're pretty banged up, be careful."

Sam urges, half leaning forwards with worry in his eyes. John recognized that look, the way his eyes scanned over his chest and face, making sure no shock had taken effect, that nothing else had occurred during the fall. He had also spotted the gun tucked up under the tree, but still within easy reach if needed.

"Were you in the army?"

John questions, the confusion flickering over the others features enough of an answer.

"No, my father was though."

"Is that who got you started in all this, the hunting?"

Ah. That was the answer he'd been waiting for. Sam's eyes dart away for the briefest of moments before returning to look at John.

"Yeah. When Dean I were little kids, our mother was murdered. Our father went on a rampage after that, trying to find anything and everything connected to what killed her."

He looked even more like a child now, with his head bent and eyes staring at crimson hands.

He and his brother were forced into this lifestyle, they'd never wanted it. What was it he had said? _'But once you know about these things, it's hard to overlook them.'_

"You ever think about doing something else?"

A short laugh leaves the man, his head lifting and a smirk dancing across his lips.

"I tried to go to college once. Made it to Stanford. Was going to be a lawyer."

"Didn't pan out?"

"My brother showed up, told me our dad had gone missing while on a hunt. I never went to another class."

It was sad, listening to him talk like that. But there was a sense of loyalty about the Winchester's. A brotherly bond he'd never seen before, certainly not between the Holmes' brothers.

"Why did Sherlock say that stuff earlier, about the blood under your nails?"

The look of guilt has returned, and the silence lingers for so long, John wonders if he'll say anything at all when Sam finally sighs quietly.

"I may have sorta started the apocalypse."

Out of all the possible scenarios that John had imagined, he had never once considered that as an answer that might leave his mouth.

"May have sort of?"

"It's a long, complicated story. But Dean and I, we're getting pressured into making a decision because of what I did, and I don't know how it's going to turn out."

"You worried about making the wrong choice?"

Sam pushes himself off the ground, running his hands along his jeans again before brushing the hair from his face and shrugging.

"Honestly? I'm more worried about my brother saying yes than I am. Which is why I need to find him. We're not really of any use to anyone here. Not to mention you need an actual doctor to look at that."

Leaning down and grabbing John's uninjured arm, he pulls it around his shoulders and hoists the man up carefully. Grimacing at the movement, the world began to dip and sway as he was moved, John's eyes closing tightly to keep the sickness at bay.

"You lost a lot of blood, you gonna be alright?"

Sam questions, a firm hand keeping the army doctor steady as he barely nods. This wasn't the time to allow himself to relive the war. Wasn't the time to slip back into those memories and leave Sherlock alone in this place.

With sweat gathering at his temples, John opens his eyes and breathes shallowly, pulling away from Sam and straightening his form as best he could.

"Let's go."

"You sure? You're looking kind've pale and-"

Sam's words come to a crashing halt as an explosion somewhere deeper within the trees in front of them shakes the ground, both men falling silent as they exchange a look.

"You're right, we should go."

Sam agrees, reaching down and picking up his gun. Bringing his arm closer to his chest, John's eyes move past them and towards the layout of trees. There's something hidden in the shadows, barely able to be seen as he squints, attempting a closer look.

"Dr. Watson?"

"What? Yeah."

He murmurs, glancing at Sam before looking back, the shadows now void of the figure, leaving John wondering whether it had been man or angel standing there watching them.


	11. Chapter Eleven - Dean Winchester's POV

**A/N**

 **Dean is probably my favorite character out of the group we have in this story. Jack is definitely the most fun to write, but I connect with Dean so much more than anyone else. Plus, if I were up against the weeping angels, this is TOTALLY something I would try.**

 **Any thoughts, comments, or critique is always appreciated and welcome! Hope you guys like this next chapter and sorry once again for the lack of updating, I have so many different fanfictions I'm trying to keep up on and we just found out my grandmother is sick again too so bear with me! /.\**

Rose's scream sends a chill throughout the Winchester's body, Dean's form turning around and his eyes trying to see through the darkness.

"Rose?"

He calls out, listening intently for any signs of the foreigner. When no response alerts him of her whereabouts, the hunter lets out an annoyed curse. Shining his light around the room as he walks closer to the exit, an eerie feeling drifts over him. One normal day, would that be so much to ask for?

"Rose? Rose! Damnit.."

He mutters, edging carefully through the room while keeping his light low to the ground.

If Rose were still in the building, she wasn't conscious, or she wasn't able to answer his calls. He wasn't sure which was worse at this point.

As he kicks a piece of debris out of his way, the sound of rustling feathers and harsh grating echoes around him. A sound he knew better than to associate with the regular angels that had been paying him visits recently.

Pressing his lips together, Dean turns back around, his gun and light pointed in front of him as he stares at long, gnarled looking fingers carved from stone hovering only inches from his face. As his eyes move past them and to the creatures own face, he grimaces.

"Dude, you fugly."

He mutters, unable to look away from the pointed fangs in its mouth, or the way its eyes were an angry void, waiting for its chance to grab him.

"I'm supposed to keep looking at you, right?"

He murmurs, shuffling back a step while keeping his eyes on the angel.

"You know, you're one of the weirdest things I've faced. Not the worst, not by a long shot. But one of the weirdest, sure."

He keeps talking, his eyes already beginning to burn from the force of keeping them open. Taking another step, his foot kicks a piece of wood, sending it skittering back behind him as something shuffles in the darkness.

"You got a buddy with you?" Dean muses, his fingers tightening around his gun. "You know, sending people back in time, that's pretty mundane for a nasty looking douche wad like yourself. Personally, I wouldn't mind going back in time. Got some things I'd like to change. But I've got Sammy, and Cas to look out for. So looks like you're just gonna have to die, and we'll call it a day, alright?"

Lifting his gun and preparing to pull the trigger, Dean hesitates.

"Can't kill a stone.. But you're not stone when we're looking at you, right? So I'm guessing you're something pretty damn fragile when we aren't looking. Which means if I shoot you as I'm looking away, you might actually die, and that'll be one less of you freaks we have to deal with."

He states, letting out a slow breath and aiming for the angel's center mass. As his finger pulls the trigger, his eyes are closing, and he hears someone shouting behind him.

"No!"

The sound of the bullet chipping stone and ricocheting off sounds just moments before the Winchester lets out a groan, the bullet flying back and soaring through his shoulder.

Son of a bitch!"

Dean yells, his hand reaching up to the wound as blood coats his skin.

"How stupid can you be?"

The Doctor's voice chides as gentle hands wrap carefully around Dean's arm. Glancing over, he stares at the blonde, her face covered in scratches while blood is smeared across her chin and left hand.

"That was an idiot move if ever I saw one!"

"Doctor, not now."

Rose says calmly, her eyes flickering to the Winchester's in a silent apology, though there seemed to be an underlying rage of her own she was controlling.

"Violence is not the answer! Violence will only make them angrier!"

"He gets it, Doctor."

Rose states sharply, pushing Dean's hand away to look at the wound.

"It went straight through and didn't nick any arteries, he'll be fine."

Sherlock motions, Rose's eyes looking up and watching the detective as he stares intently at the angel.

"You're positive about that?"

The man scoffs as though it were obvious.

"Two holes on either side where the bullet penetrated his skin, and promptly left. If it had nicked any arteries, there would be far more blood than what has already come out. Not to mention the fact that he has a history with incidents such as these, and inflicting a wound as trivial as this is nothing to him."

"You're a smartass, you know that?" Dean scoffs, carefully removing Rose's hands from his arm. "I'm fine."

He murmurs quietly.

"Well that's just lovely, take some time, be domestic! It's not as if you've just angered them, or risked shooting any one of us!"

"What the hell is your problem with me, Doc? You said you can't kill a stone, and when no one is looking at it, it's not a stone! Had you kept outside, we'd have one less of these damned things to deal with!"

Dean roars, scowling at the alien in disgust.

"You think death is the easiest option for everything, don't you?"

The Doctor shoots back.

"Isn't it?"

Dean barks, dropping his hands and taking a step closer to him.

"Everything my brother and I hunt, all those things? They've killed people. They've killed innocent _woman_ and _children_ and they're monsters that don't deserve to be given a chance! Cause if we let them do that? If we say hey! Mr. Wendigo, you just ate that entire campsite full of families and pets, but you know what? We're gonna give you a chance to do better! Then that next massacre, that's on us!"

Dean shouts, poking his finger at the Doctor.

"Am I monster then?" The Doctor asks calmly, his hands clasped behind his back and his body leaning forwards just a fraction. "I've killed people."

"Doctor, stop," Rose urges, stepping closer and depositing herself directly in his line of sight. "Don't do this."

"Rose, he just said that he hunts monsters, and don't you think I classify as one? I'm certainly not human, so tell me Dean," The Doctor peers over the blonde, his eyes holding such a harsh gleam that it catches the hunter off guard. "Are you going to shoot me next?"

Silence fills the dilapidated building as Dean's fingers tighten around his gun, his jaw locking as he glares at the alien.

"Frankly I'm still deciding."

Dean spits back, feeling Rose's gaping look burning into him.

"No! No one will be shooting anyone!"

Rose's voice suddenly shouts, her footsteps heavy as her fingers wrap around Dean's wrist, pushing the gun into his side.

"There are enough problems without having to worry about you two mucking everything up with your stupid arguing! Now we are still missing four people, and we need to find them. Doctor, get off your back end and use your sonic. Dean, put that gun away, there's no use for it right now anyways."

Rose's voice holds the same authority her glare shows, shooting each man a furious look as she waits for someone to object.

"Forget it, I'll find Sam and Cas on my own."

Dean mutters, shoving his gun behind his shirt and stalking out of the building, feeling Rose's objections stop before they can even start.

"Don't bother, he's not worth it."

The Doctor's voice rings out, the Winchester's hands balling into fists as he storms away, anger eating away at him. He'd go back to his car, and dig out his phone from the wreckage. Sam's phone might be with his, but Cas might've kept one too. If that ended up not working, he'd pray to Cas if he had too. That was his only plan at the moment, but at least it was-

"Dean!"

Glancing over his shoulder, his deep scowl stops the blonde midstep, Rose's eyes growing wary. Was he really that scary that she felt the need to stop herself from getting closer?

"I wanted to make sure your arm was alright."

She says softly, the English accent woven into her words giving him a bittersweet feeling.

"It's fine. Why did you really follow me? Finally tired of that pretentious asshole?"

The woman's lips press together into a thin line, brown hues staring him down in annoyance.

"I came to tell you that the Doctor is working on finding your friends. He told me he got two signals, two in each pair. Chances are, our friends are with yours. I thought you'd like to come with us."

"Yeah? What does your precious Doc think of that?"

"You're being just as stubborn and childish as he is!"

She huffs while throwing her hands in the air.

"Childish?" Dean scoffs, rolling his eyes and turning away from her again. "I'm getting our phones from my car. You have Sam's number, call me if you find them."

"No." Stopping, Dean turns around to find Rose facing him directly, an angry gleam in her eyes. "I get you don't like him, and he doesn't like you. But Jack is still somewhere out there, and more than likely he is with either that angel, or with your brother. Don't you care enough about either of them to put your petty arguments aside until you find them?"

Opening his mouth to respond, he watches her hand rise to cut him off.

"Don't. Just come back with me. I swear, if the Doctor tries to say anything I will stop him. But we need you, Dean. Believe it or not, your idea was clever. The Doctor would never admit it, but it was. We could use you, so please?"

Dean could feel his resolve crumbling just by looking at the passionate girl, her head held high and her eyes locked firmly onto his.

"Fine. But he says another damned word about what I do, I'm done."

"Okay!"

She grins, a small bounce in her step as she walks beside him and back towards the house of horrors.

"Why'd you even bother to follow me?"

He questions, glancing down at the smaller girl.

"Hmm? Oh. The Doctor can be.. Trying some times. I didn't like what he'd said to you. Especially because it's not your fault. Not entirely, at least."

"What does that even mean?"

"You didn't get a choice in how you were raised." She says softly, gentle brown orbs focusing up at him. "It was just shoved on you. The Doctor doesn't know that. Doesn't know you didn't purposely pick this life just for the excitement and the killing. It's hard for him to understand things like that sometimes."

"Sure he wouldn't have respected me more had I not chosen this for myself? I mean, how did he even get started on his little adventure?"

Rose laughs, her fingers brushing against her forehead.

"That's true; he did steal the Tardis from his people."

"Really? Well, mister high and mighty has made mistakes too."

"You're not going to hurt him, right?"

She asks suddenly, slowing to a stop as Dean spotted the other two men a ways away from them.

"What?"

"After what he said, about being a monster himself. You won't hurt him, right?"

There's too long of a pause before the Winchester answers, and he can feel the tension building in her.

"Probably not."

"Probably?" She demands, her hand latching onto his arm and staring up at him intently. "He's a good man, Dean."

"According to him, he's not actually a 'man' at all."

He says quietly, pulling free of her grasp and walking back towards the group, forcing down everything he wanted to say. His brother was more important right now, and he needed to find him, even if it meant working with the alien.


	12. Chapter Twelve - Jack Harkness' POV

**A/N**

 **Pretty sure there is still about.. Eight chapters left to this fanfiction? I need to cut back on what I'm writing.. With a full time job, two fanfictions, a novel, and a blog, I'm having a hard time keeping up and making sure I'm also doing my best work /.\ this chapter is more of a filler, see where the others are sort of thing, so I'm sorry this one isn't quite as long as the others.**

 **Anywho, as we draw close to the climax of the story, any thought or comments, ideas or criticism are all very welcome and much appreciated!**

… **.**

"Damn."

Jack mutters, finding himself strangely lacking for words at the story that had just been relayed to him by the celestial being.

"I'm concerned about the Winchester's. As you can see, leaving them on their own could be detrimental."

Castiel states, a demure look clouding the angel's features. Letting out a slow breath as they walked, Jack found himself shrugging at the comment, his eyes finding their way to the other's face.

"At this point, it sounds to me like they're on a precipice. Both starting to lean one way, when you need them to lean the other. You really think they're going to say yes to Satan and Michael?"

Jack presses, his mind reeling from the flood of information he'd received. A different reality wasn't that hard to imagine, especially for the Time Agent. He'd seen just about everything out there now, whether on his own, or with the Doctor. Or at least, it felt like he had.

But a world where the apocalypse was on the brink of happening, and the fate of that world rested on the shoulders of two men and an angel? There just seemed something entirely unfair about all of that.

Dean had seemed a bit uptight and harsh when he'd met him, and now Jack could understand why. Having that sort of thing just thrown at you, it probably did screw with a person's life and how they perceived the world. Not to mention having the world's literal devil going after your little brother?

"Sam is an abomination, so I cannot predict what he will do. As for Dean, I can't seem to get through to him."

Cas says, his brows drawing together as he stares hard at the ground before he is looking at Jack with a new found interest.

"Perhaps the Doctor can rectify this. You said he has saved your world countless times."

Letting out a long breath, Jack paused in his tracks and frowned.

"The Doctor can do a lot, angel face. But stopping those boys from saying yes? I don't think anyone has the power to stop that from happening except for them," The Time Agent shrugs. "Maybe have some faith in them to do the right thing? I mean, you're an angel, don't you specialize in faith?"

Castiel's head tilts to one side as his entire body seems to sag.

"I'm supposed to be a lot of things but it seems recently that I've failed in quite a few of them."

Clapping a hand down on the angel's shoulder, Jack offers a smile.

"Let's just focus on trying to find them for right now." The man states, turning and looking around. "The question is where exactly we are, and how far as we from our initial location?"

"Jack."

"They aren't very powerful, so we can't be too far from the motel or from the others, so-"

" _Jack."_

The angel calls again, his voice tense. Turning back around, Jack's eyes widen at the stone angel mere inches from Castiel's face.

"Don't blink, Cas!"

Jack says tersely, walking closer and looking for any others that might be lurking.

"I have seen these angels before."

Cas speaks quietly, his eyes narrowing at the fanged creature stretching its arms above its head.

"You deal in monsters, don't you? Wouldn't be surprised if you had heard of them before."

"They're not monsters."

Castiel snaps, his left hand twitching at his side.

"They're creatures that have no soul, Cas. They don't care who they hurt to get their food."

The Time Agent explains slowly, walking up next to the angel and letting his eyes drift over the strange stone creature.

"They aren't monsters," Castiel states again, his hands balling into fists now. "They're my brothers."

"Excuse me?" Jack scoffs, looking between the two angels. "I don't really see much of a family resemblance, Cas."

"We were taught as fledglings that the fallen angels of old were cast out and sent to hell. But some of them escaped, some of them ran, and our father was displeased."

Running a hand down his face, Jack sighs and shakes his head.

"Cas, I don't think that's how that worked."

"Your Doctor said they were around since the start of the universe, didn't he?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"What other explanation is there for them?"

"That they're aliens from a different part of the universe?"

"We will not harm them."

"Cas! Come on, you can't honestly think you're related to these things!"

"We will not harm them, Jack."

He says firmly, a determined expression on his face as he continues to stare at the stone angel.

"Alright, alright. Stranger things have happened. But we need to find those Winchester's, cause if what you're saying is true, I get the feeling they'll want to know."

Jack grumbles, flipping the cover of his vortex manipulator up and messing with a few of the buttons as he steps closer to Castiel.

"As soon as I get this thing working, we're going, so grab my arm."

"Where are we going?"

Castiel questions, his hand reaching out and feeling for the Time Agent's bicep while keeping his eyes trained on the Weeping Angel.

"Easy there, angel, there will be time for that later." Jack smirks, pressing a couple of buttons roughly. "Damnit Doctor.. I'm going to take us back to that motel. Maybe some of the others will be there, and if not, we'll at least be able to get inside the Tardis."

"Would it not be better to locate the others first?"

"Course it would, but I can't lock onto an individual person with this thing."

Jack frowns, feeling the hand on his arm tighten as the sound of wings flapping surrounds him and the terrain beneath his feet shifts drastically. Stumbling forwards and regaining his balance, the Time Agent looks up to see two men staring at him in shock in the middle of a forest that hadn't previously been there.

"Cas? What the hell?"

Sam Winchester gapes as Jack looks behind him at the angel leaning against a tree, his face pale.

"You were unable to locate the others with your device, so I found the closest group to our location."

"Well it worked,"

Jack smirks, patting the angels shoulder as he turned his attention to Sam, grinning flirtatiously.

"You brought us right to the abomination."

"Excuse me?"

Sam scoffs, a disgusted look on his face as Jack winks.

"Don't worry, I've been called a lot worse in my time. Now what happened to Dr. Watson?"

Jack questions, walking closer and staring at the crudely wrapped appendage the man held close to his chest.

"Bad landing. Not as experienced with that sort of travel as the rest of you."

It's an attempt at a joke, one that Jack offers a smile too, but the man's face is pale and covered in sweat, his chest moving in jerking manners to try and breathe through the pain he's enduring.

"We'll get you back to the Tardis, patched up like new in no time."

Jack promises, glancing now at the Winchester's blood stained hands and attire, meeting his gaze as the brunette shook his head gently, letting the agent know it wasn't his own.

"Angel, you ready to find the others?"

Jack calls, turning around and watching Castiel straighten, wavering a moment before nodding.

"There's a downed amusement park straight ahead of us," Sam offers, folding his arms and making a motion with his head. "I saw it on our way to the motel the night before last. If those stone angels separated us, there's a good chance that's where some of the others ended up."

"Yeah, about those Weeping Angels," Jack muses quietly, glancing briefly at Cas. "Are you aware he thinks they're his family?"

"Wait, the stone angels? Cas?"

Sam questions, directing his attention to the angel that still seemed a bit out of sorts.

"Yes?"

"Those Weeping Angels, you think those are some of your pals?"

Nodding, Castiel remains silent.

"Honestly.. I wouldn't be that surprised."

Sam grumps, shaking his head and brushing back his hair.

"Seriously?"

"Look, with everything that has happened because of the oncoming.. You know.. End of the world, I wouldn't put anything past Zachariah at this point."

Jack says nothing, instead folding his own arms over his chest and nodding slowly.

"Right.. Well, let's get moving. The sooner we find the others the sooner we can take care of this mess."


	13. Chapter Thirteen - Sam Winchester's POV

**A/N**

 **I'm so sorry it's been so long since my last update! I didn't even realize so many people were following this story, so I hadn't put it at the top of my priority list /.\**

 **I have a bit more time on my hands now, however, and I plan on finishing this story as soon as possible! Updates should be a bit more frequent, and I really, really appreciate everyone who has stuck by me! I hope you all enjoy as we move closer to the end!**

It's slow going as the small group makes their way to the edge of the forest, both Sam and Jack's arms keeping the war doctor steady as they walked, doing their best not to jostle him more than they had too.

"He's getting worse."

Jack says quietly as the hunters eyes flicker to the pale pallor of the blonde.

"Doctor Watson, you still with us?"

He questions, the trio coming to a stop as the man's head lolls, no more than a quiet groan leaving him as a response.

"Cas, you're an angel, can you do anything?"

Jack asks, looking behind them to where Castiel was trudging along slowly, his own health appearing to be failing as well.

"I-"

"It's a long story, but he can't."

Sam snaps, shooting the angel a brief look, still miffed about the 'abomination' comment he'd made earlier, and about telling Jack everything that was going on. It wasn't anyone else's business, especially not people who weren't originally from this world anyway.

"We can't keep going like this."

Jack mutters after a moment, glancing between the angel and hunter before shifting to look at the detective's face and to check his pulse.

"He's lost a lot of blood, if we don't get him help, that's worse."

Sam argues, holding more of the other's weight now as the Time Agent pulled away.

"We're just making the injury worse, look; even your arm is soaked from his blood now. Whatever you did to patch him up earlier, it's not working anymore."

Jack points out, looking around quickly before pointing to a small gathering of trees that had grown close to one another, creating a small and somewhat comfortable looking area.

"We're near the edge, we should split up."

He reasons, facing the Winchester now, Sam's eyes narrowing.

"Split up? That's your idea?"

"Two of us stay here, two of us go. We look after Watson, and we find the others and bring back help. Splitting up is never a great option but you gotta admit, we're not doing him any favors lugging him around like this."

Directing his attention to John, Sam lets out a soft sigh and nods. At least John didn't moan as much as Dean when he was injured.

"Alright, let's get him settled."

He relents, waiting for the Time Agent to take the other's arm again as they carried the man over and eased him down to the ground. Letting out a pained hiss, John's eyes flutter open, glassy hues taking in the faces around him as he mumbles something about a pool before his eyes are closing again and he is slumping back unconscious.

"We should-"

Sam starts, cutting off as Castiel himself stumbled against one of the trees, his back sliding down the bark until he landed to the forest floor and closed his own eyes, muttering what sounded like cursing in Enochian.

Pressing his lips together into a thin line, Sam suppresses the urge to let out an annoyed comment of his own. He knew traveling like that took a lot out of Cas now, but his timing was absolutely terrible.

"Looks like only one of us is going."

Sam mutters, watching the time traveler's eyes dart between the two downed men.

"You should go."

"What?"

"You should be the one to go. If I try telling your brother anything, I doubt he'll listen. He needs to know you're alright, so that he'll help the others in getting back here."

Jack explains, kneeling down and beginning to unwrap the bloody bandage around John's arm to try and stop the bleeding again.

"You sure you'll be alright?"

"I'll be fine, I'm pretty good at taking care of myself."

Jack smirks, winking at the brunette in a flirtatious manner.

"Alright, I'll be back soon."

Sam states, taking a final, hesitant glance towards the semi-conscious angel before starting off once more in the other direction. Walking with no path and little to no direction, the Winchester is grateful when he can see through the trees and into a clearing, a wide array of rundown buildings and rides a ways past that.

Pushing branches out of his way, the sound of gunfire has the man pausing, listening intently while drawing his own weapon back from behind his shirt. As far as he knew, Dean was the only other one with a gun from their group.

Walking quietly and keeping his body low, Sam crept to the edge of the park, his eyes scanning the area as a faint string of curses leave one of the buildings. He knew that sound anywhere, he always would. Dean had a way of cursing that seemed to set him apart from anyone else.

"Dean!"

The man calls, keeping his gun up as a branch cracked behind him. Turning around, he narrows his eyes, making his way carefully around one of the buildings, a dark shape in the shadows as he tries to listen for other movement.

"Dean?" Sam calls again, creeping forwards, his eyes burning as he tries not to blink. "Dean!"

Could his brother even hear him? Doubtful, which meant he was alone with at least one angel, and no plan. Stopping a few feet away, he lowers one hand, rummaging through his pockets, unable to find the phone he desperately had hoped he had on him. Letting out a slow, steady breath, the Winchester is about to pull the trigger when another branch cracks behind him.

"Easy." A voice warns, the tone vaguely familiar as a hand rests on his shoulder. "One from earlier, watching us."

The Doctor edges into the hunter's peripheral vision and Sam lets out a brief sigh of relief.

"Put your gun away, you'll not do any good keeping it up."

The Doctor waves, Sam's eyes flickering briefly to the Doctor before darting back again, but the shadow was already gone.

"You looked away."

The Doctor stated as Sam blinked rapidly, regaining moisture in his burning eyes as his gun lowered.

"Yeah, sorry, habit. Not blinking's harder than it seems."

He notes, putting his gun away as the Doctor looked him up and down.

"You're covered in blood."

"Yeah, it's not mine, its Doctor Watson's."

"Come on."

The Doctor motions with a grim expression, guiding the man back around the building and up towards a rundown haunted house.

"Where's Dean?"

He questions, looking around, finally spotting his brother in the distance talking to the young English girl.

Of course he was. Leave it to Dean to still find time to flirt in the middle of a crisis. He could see him and Jack getting along well, actually.

"What happened?"

Sherlock demands, spotting the two men walking closer, his eyes looking the hunter up and down.

"Doctor Watson had an accident, he-"

"Where is he?"

There's a flicker of something on Sherlock's face that the Winchester can't quite make out. Panic? Fear? It's there for only a moment, before a stoic expression returns and Sherlock is frowning, both men waiting for Sam to answer.

"He's lost a lot of blood, but if we-"

"Sam?"

Turning at his brother's voice, Sam watches his older brother stalk towards their group, a pissed off look clear on his face despite the distance.

"Dean-"

"Sam, where the hell have you been? What happened?"

He demands, eyes growing wide at the sight of the blood coating his clothes and his hands, and for a moment, he can see the fear in his own brother's eyes. Not the fear that he was injured, but the fear that he might've done something else. A heavy weight settles in Sam's stomach as he barely shakes his head, hoping to reassure the other that he hadn't done what he thought.

"It's not mine."

Is all Sam says, taking a step back to make their circle wider.

"Where is John?"

Sherlock presses, irritation resounding now as Sam focuses his attention back on the detective.

"He's near the edge of the woods. His arm was injured when we fell, he's not doing great. Jack and Cas are with him, we didn't wanna keep moving him until we knew where you guys were."

Sam explains, running a hand down his jeans.

"Why didn't Cas come with you?"

Dean asks, folding his arms over his chest and giving his brother a concerned look.

"He used some of his angel.. mojo to get him and Jack closer to us. He was wiped."

"Damnit."

The Winchester curses, running a hand down his face, green hues meeting Rose Tyler's as they share a brief look before they both look away, Sam's own eyes narrowing.

"Anyway.. we should probably find them, get them some help." Sam continues, turning his attention to the Doctor. "Will you be able to help him?"

"If the angels haven't gotten to them first."

The Doctor says dryly, pulling a strange, cylindrical device from his pocket and pressing a button a couple of times, the odd noise resounding from it changing pitch with each press of the button.

"You sure you're alright, Sam?"

Dean mutters, taking a step closer to his little brother and staring at the blood as Sam nods.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I don't have my phone, I think it was left in the-"

A surge of energy pulses around the hunter, the sound of flapping wings and a heavy hand touches his back as he suddenly finds himself stumbling forwards, his fingers sinking into plush grass as the early morning sun shines down on him.

"-Impala."

He finishes, looking up in confusion, his eyes and mouth wide as he stares across the lawn and at a parking lot where the Impala is parked Across the pavement he can see inside one of the rooms where the curtains are drawn back and he can see himself and Dean arguing in the motel, just as they were when they first woke up that very morning before everything had happened.


	14. Chapter Fourteen - Sherlock Holmes POV

**A/N**

 **Okay honestly I'm just shit at updating this fanfiction. Or really, any in general. I'm sorry for all the delays, I know I suck. I hope this chapter makes up for it though**

* * *

"This is getting real old, real fast."

Dean snarls, glaring unblinkingly at the stone angel, its gnarled fingers reaching out and frozen in place where the man's younger brother had previously been.

"They don't have it."

The Doctor speaks quietly, the statement made more to himself than the others as Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"They don't have what, Doctor?"

"The key."

The alien stood taller, patting down each of his pockets individually before beginning to feel inside them.

"What is it now, what key?"

Dean griped, his fingers tightening around his gun though it remained motionless by his side.

"The key to my machine!" He shouts, as if the very idea should have been obvious. "But they're attacking us still; they must be trying to find it."

"Doctor?"

The soft lilt of Rose's voice draws the group's attention, everyone but the hunter turning to her. Giving her a once over, Sherlock stared as she reached into the pocket of her sweater and pulled out a single key that seemed to glow in the light.

"You asked me to keep ahold of it, don't you remember? Said you had a hole in your jumper and it kept falling out."

A moment of silence passes as the hunter shifted, obviously struggling to remain staring, before the Doctor is jumping towards the girl. In a single motion he is grabbing the woman's shoulders, pulling her forward and planting a kiss to her forehead.

"Rose! Brilliant, _fantastic_ Rose!"

He laughs, taking the key from her and holding it tightly. Turning around and staring at the angel, a smug expression fills his face.

"There now, you know where it is. You're not strong enough on your own, though, and we both know that. So go on, go back and tell your little friends." Resting a hand on the Winchester's shoulder Dean jolts, his body tensing as the Doctor smiles. "Look away, Dean, let it leave."

"How the hell do you know it will?"

The question is posed without receiving an answer, the Winchester finally huffing out a sigh before closing his eyes, rubbing at them to regain moisture as the others all looked away as well. Turning back only a moment later, Sherlock looks around carefully, unable to spot a single sign of the stone angel that had previously been there.

"Why are they so damned interested in your machine, Doc?"

The hunter gripes, staring in annoyed fascination at the key in the man's hand.

"They feed off of time energy, and my machine is full of it."

He boasts, pulling his hand away and grinning at Rose.

"Yeah, your machine isn't the only thing full of something around here." Dean mutters, rolling his shoulder with a grimace. "Where the hell did it send my brother this time?"

"He could be anywhere."

The Doctor's voice is calm, and Sherlock could see the way he watched the hunter cautiously. The two were codependent in a harmful, if not dangerous, way and when one was in danger it seemed the other cared very little about their own safety until their sibling was found.

"Anywhere?" Dean scoffs, moving to shove his gun behind his shirt before glaring at the time traveler. "Do you even know where Cas is? Or those other two?"

"They can't be far."

The Doctor says dryly, obviously not used to being treated in such a gruff, disrespecting manner.

"John is with that angel, and your companion, Doctor. Finding them is more pressing then your current squabbling."

Sherlock points out, unwilling to admit aloud just how worried he was about the blood that had been all over the younger Winchester and his claim that it had been his friend's.

"I'm not squabbling, I don't squabble."

The man complains, his eyes darting to the blonde who gave him an appropriate _'shame on you'_ look.

"We're all missing people, and as much as I hate you, Doc, Rose said you could locate them. So is that true, or are you just wasting all of our time?"

"I can find them." Lifting his sonic device in the air, the sound echoed around them, the noise drifting towards the trees. "Through there."

The man stated confidently, shooting a smug look at the hunter.

"They're absolute children."

Rose mutters, shaking her head and looking up at Sherlock.

"Yet you love him. It's obvious you're infatuated with one, while also being attracted to the other."

The detective states almost wearily, turning towards the forest while the bickering between the two men picked up again.

"I don't think so."

Rose frowned, her arms wrapping around her chest defensively as the detective turned and stared down at her. She was young, only nineteen he'd wager. She had the best intentions at heart, something he found odd. And she was fiercely loyal to that man, though it was apparent she found it easy to fight back if she disagreed with him. Clever, impetuous, yet naïve. Did she even know what it was she had gotten herself into when she first agreed to go with him?

"Pretending does little to convince me otherwise, Miss Tyler. You follow the Doctor around with little regard to your own wellbeing. You want to impress him, want him to see that you're just as capable as he is, though you're not."

She looks offended, although most did when he pointed things out to such clueless individuals.

"Is that why you choose to flirt with that hunter? Another man of excitement and dangerous activities. Maybe it will make the Doctor notice you more, see you as you wish to be seen, whether that's romantically or perhaps just as an equal. That, or you're just mindlessly running into danger without thinking about the consequences, though I highly doubt it, which means ulterior motives is the cause of your poor decision making."

"You may be clever, but you really don't know much about people themselves, do you?"

She asks quietly, a steely gaze glaring up at him as her fingers tighten around her arms.

"Coddling a person does them no good, nor does it benefit me in any manner."

He states bluntly as the blonde let out a harsh laugh.

"God, my mum would _love_ a crack at you. Just because you're clever doesn't mean you need to go flaunting it about when no one asks. Honestly, you and the Doctor, no wonder the two of you get on so well."

Rolling her eyes, the blonde looks away from him as the detective frowned.

"I don't-"

"Oh my God."

She cuts him off, light brown eyes stretched wide in shock before she is shoving past him, her fingers gripping his arm for the briefest moment before pulling away as she hurried off. Turning to look at what caught her attention, the detective's stomach lurches. Walking through the trees, three men emerge, two practically dragging along the third as dead weight.

"Would you two stop arguing and help us out here?"

Jack shouts, retrieving the Doctor's and Dean's attention as John is lowered to the ground, a weak smile on his face when he spots his flat mate.

"Bit of a klutz when it comes to time travel it seems."

His voice is strained, cracking with effort. His forehead sheens with sweat, making his pale complexion only appear more ghastly in the bright light. One side of his shirt is stained with blood, the rest of his sweater smeared with dirt. Rose is pressing down on where the blood seeps from, guided by quiet words from the war doctor himself, his eyes flickering occasionally to where Sherlock stands frozen.

"We couldn't stay there any longer, there was one angel already watching us, and if any more had shown, well. The trip would've killed him."

Jack is telling the Doctor quietly, his voice steady and calm though blood is dried on his palms.

"We've got medical supplies back at my car."

Dean offers with a grim expression, a clear sign that he'd put his own grievances with the alien aside in lieu of helping an injured man. Keeping his face neutral, Sherlock made his way slowly towards John, concerned eyes flickering over him.

"How are we supposed to get there? They're bound to have one of them guarding the machine."

Jack pointed out as the detective clutched the coat in his arms tighter, listening intently.

"I might be of some help."

Castiel offered, the angel standing as statuesque as the enemy.

"No offense, Cas, but your mojo hasn't been top notch as of late and we can't really afford any screw ups."

Dean remarked. The background conversation continued on, various ideas being thrown as Rose helped John, a strained smile on her lips as she spoke to him. It had been less than a week since the incident with Moriarty. Less than a week since John's life had been put in danger, and here he was being thrust into it again. He was foolish to stick around as long as he had.

"What, no comments?"

John's voice carries over, the detective frowning at his flat mate as he's dredged out of his thoughts.

"You should've taken more precautions."

"Ah, and there it is." He scoffs, glassy eyes staring up at him with that same fire they always carried no matter the situation. "How exactly do you prepare for getting _teleported_ , Sherlock?"

Fair point, though he refused to admit it.

"You'll be fine, though Mrs. Hudson will have a fit when she sees you."

"She'll blame you no doubt."

"Yes, most likely. That woman seems to find solace in blaming most incidents on me."

"Most incidents _are_ because of you, Sherlock."

John winces, talking to Rose once more as the conversation grew louder behind them.

"I'm not fixing that thing! Do you know how much I would have to do to get it to work again?"

"I've already figured out part of it, Doctor, I just need you to sonic it up."

"Sonic it up? _Sonic it-_ No! That thing is a menace and an absolute disgrace to time travel, not to-"

"Doc, if it helps, just do it damnit we don't have time to be arguing about all of this!"

Looking over his shoulder, Sherlock watched as the Doctor glowered at the two ganging up on him before snatching Jack's wrist, flipping open a cover on the wrist band he wore before pointing his device down at it.

"Temporary fix, it will lock onto the Tardis and take you close enough to it, but don't let those angels anywhere near this. And no gallivanting, we've work to do."

He grumbles, dropping the man's hand and shoving his screwdriver back inside his pocket.

"I don't gallivant, Doctor."

Jack huffed, readjusting the leather cuff.

"This thing will teleport us like those angels did?"

Dean clarifies as Jack nodded, a proud grin on his face.

"We'll go a few hours back, try and miss out on the weeping angels keeping tabs on the Tardis."

"Cheap form of travel if you ask me."

The Doctor stated with a miffed expression as he looked towards Rose.

"Let's go then, no point in wasting time."

Dean claps his hands together as the Time Agent grinned even wider, holding his hand out.

"Hold on tight, hunter."

"You're joking, right?"

There's a look of distaste on one man's face and flirtation on the other's.

"You're the one who said there wasn't time to waste, Dean."

The Doctor chirped out, obviously enjoying the Winchester's discomfort and the sudden ability to advertise it. Letting out an irritated puff of air, bright green eyes land on Rose before thrusting his hand into the Time Agents.

"Let's just get this over with."

Dean grumbled, refusing to look the man in the eyes as Jack winked at Castiel.

"Sure thing. See you later, angel."

He calls, reaching over and pressing a few buttons on his wristband. In a flash both men disappeared, leaving a tense silence between the remaining few.

"What do we do now, Doctor?"

Rose asks, her hands still holding onto John as the alien pulled off his jumper and began rolling up his sleeves.

"Now? The worst thing in the world. We wait."


	15. Chapter Fifteen - Castiel's POV

**A/N**

 **You know what's really sad about this, is that there's really only six chapters left of this. Six chapters, and I STILL haven't finished this. Didn't I start two years ago? Wow. I suck, and I'm sorry. Basically I wrote this on Instagram years ago and there were sooooo many plot holes that I just blatantly ignored, and now, looking back on them, I realize I have to fix all that. Kinda wish I'd actually paid more attention BEFORE I started the first few chapters.. but hey, we keep buggering on. Thanks for everyone's patience and for everyone who still reads, it really does mean a lot to me to have your reviews and support!**

* * *

"He's going to get us all killed."

"Stop pouting, Doctor. Jack's watching out for him."

"Oh, great. Puts my mind at ease. A trigger happy hunter and a man who flirts his way out of every situation. You can't seduce a stone, Rose."

"Mm, now _that_ would be impressive.."

She trailed off, eyes downcast to the ground as Castiel watched silently from afar. He hadn't wanted to let Dean go and he didn't like not knowing where Sam had ended up. Those two were on the brink of starting the biggest war the earth had ever seen and both of them were now unaccounted for.

What would his brothers and sisters do? That was a foolish question; he already knew what they would do. How it angered him to see them fighting so far on either end. Why couldn't they leave the Winchester's alone? Things would get immensely worse if either of them said yes, and the human causalities would skyrocket. Love humanity, that's what they were told to do. Yet no one followed that rule, that commandment.

"Cas!"

Tilting his head, the angel squinted at the woman standing in front of him, worried eyes looking him over in a way that reminded him strangely of Anna. Or rather, who Anna once was.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course," He answered simply, head straightening as he peered across the way at the detective and the war doctor. "I believe your concern should be on Dr. Watson."

"The Doctor's giving him a once over. You look pale too though."

"It's merely my human form, I am fine, I assure you."

He promised, watching as brown hues deviated to his outfit before returning to his face.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"No."

He stated, watching as her fingers pushed together.

"When I was with Dean earlier, he told me about, well, everything. But he said that Michael and.. you know.. they needed permission to like, take over."

"Yes," He nodded, standing as straight as ever as he stared at her. "For an angel to take over a human form they must first gain permission from the human themselves. Without consent, an angel may not use that human as a vessel."

"So.."

She trailed off, still staring at him as the angel tilted his head a fraction.

"Are you questioning my own form?"

"Sorta, yeah."

"His name was Jimmy Novak, and he was a devout believer. When I tested his faith, he succeeded. When I asked for consent, he complied. He willingly gave himself over."

"Is he dead?"

A new voice asked, the Doctor standing a few feet away now with crimson staining his hands.

"My vessel?"

"Yes."

"Yes, he is."

"Did you kill him?" The silence lingered as Castiel squinted again, the answer unable to be answered to its full capacity. "Did you-"

"I don't think so."

"You don't _think_? What is with you hunters? You think it's okay to just go round killing people as you please?"

The Doctor scoffed, his arms rising in the air.

"The Winchester's do not kill _people_ they kill monsters. Innocents rarely get involved unless they've involved themselves of their own accord."

He stated calmly, sensing the anger and tension in the air as the alien stared harshly.

"You stand up for those hunters a lot. How did you get involved with them?"

"I was chosen to raise Dean from Perdition."

"Raise Dean from.."

Rose trailed off as the Doctor took a step forward.

"You raised Dean from _hell_?"

"That is correct."

"Dean was in hell? Doctor, how-"

"Dean made a deal with a crossroads demon to save his brother."

The angel stated, watching as the woman's face morphed into one of horror.

"How can he be _alive_ if he was in _hell_?"

"It-"

"Doctor."

Sherlock's voice cut him off, the detective kneeled next to his flat mate. The blondes face was covered in sweat, his breaths shuddering out as he cradled his arm against his chest, his shirt half covered in his own blood.

"He needs a hospital." Rose murmured, walking closer and kneeling down, her hand reaching out and pressing against his cheek. "Cas, can you do anything?"

The angel hesitated, fingers fidgeting as he took a wary step closer.

"I cannot."

"Why not? Don't angels have special abilities or something? He really needs help."

Rose pressed, sitting up on her knees as Castiel shifted his eyes to the ground.

"When I chose to take the side of the Winchester's, when I chose to betray my family for the sake of humans, I was cut off from Heaven for my rebellion. In doing so, many of my powers were stricken from me. Including my ability to heal those in need."

"Great timing for that, eh?" John murmured, blinking a couple of times in a dazed manner. "I'll be fine. Just need rest."

"You need a proper hospital." Rose disagreed, looking up at the Doctor pleadingly. "If we had the Tardis we could take him somewhere safe."

"It's too long of a trek, the angels know we have the key, they would stop us. Unless.." The Doctor trailed off, looking back to the angel. "I've got just a bit of regenerative salve left from Metallurgis 5 on my ship, it might do to aid Dr. Watson. But I've got to get there without those angels trying to stop me. Can you help with that at the very least?"

"Yes, traveling such a distance should be no problem."

He confirmed despite the prodding in the back of his head. He could hear Dean laughing, commenting about how he lost his angel mojo.

"Fantastic! Let's go."

The Doctor said, clapping his hands together as Rose stood and trailed behind him.

"I'm going too."

"I don't need a babysitter."

The alien commented as the blonde glared at him.

"Yeah, you do. Or you and Dean will rip each other apart."

"You have so little faith in me."

"I can't imagine why. I'm going."

"Fine, suit yourself. We'll be right back, Dr. Watson. Hang in there."

The Doctor promised, standing frozen as Castiel walked towards them and placed a hand on either of their shoulders. Concentrating on the desired location, the sound of wings fluttering resounded as his feet left ground before touching down again moments later.

The angel heard a sound of awe coming from Rose, words he couldn't quite make out being uttered as his body lurched forward, all control gone as two people caught ahold of his arms and lowered him to the ground. There was a pestering voice nagging in his ear, but light and sound were mixing together in a mass of-

"Cas!"

Focusing on bright green hues, he stared at the Winchester kneeling in front of him, a frown set deep in his face.

"The hell do you think you're doing?"

"Helping."

He muttered out, sitting up as the Doctor's hands pulled away.

"Last thing we need is your unconscious feathery ass slowing us down."

He scoffed, giving the angel a once over.

"My ass is not feathery."

Castiel stated, his tone miffed as the Winchester cracked half a smile before pulling away from him.

"Yeah, he's fine."

"How long have you guys been here?"

Rose asked, stepping closer to the tree line, the group hidden from the prying eyes of the motel.

"An hour. You two fight _a lot_."

Jack commented, motioning towards the Impala where a past version of Dean slammed the door and blasted music through the open windows.

"We're brothers, he pisses me off, what do you expect?"

Dean scowled, shifting where he stood as Castiel folded his hands together.

"You mean we're back at the beginning?"

Rose asked, turning to look at the Doctor.

"It appears so. We were sent back in time so many times everything has gone a bit wobbly."

" _Wobbly_?"

Dean repeated, a look of disdain clear on his face as the alien rolled his eyes.

"I understand that the concept of time travel doesn't set well in that tiny human skull of yours, but try not to be so thick and use common sense for once, would you?"

Rose stepped forward, a hand resting on the Doctor's arm as she glanced apologetically at Dean.

"He likes to insult other species when he's stressed."

"Yeah? I don't think you ever told me what exactly you are, Doc."

"I'm a-"

"Whoa!" In a burst of energy, Sam Winchester stumbled and fell forward, eyes wide as he looked around. "I'll never get used to that."

"Sam!" Dean surged forward, any banter he'd had with the alien forgotten as he looked his brother over. "You alright?"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm fine." The younger assured, attempting to wipe dried blood from his hands. "Where the hell are we?"

"Back at the start." Dean motioned, pointing towards the parking lot where the Tardis could be seen flying into view. "I can't watch this." The hunter grimaced, turning away as the sound of glass and metal echoed through the lot as Dean visibly flinched and shot a glare at the Doctor. "Ah, baby.."

"What are you guys doing here? And where's Sherlock and Dr. Watson?"

"We came back to get medical supplies from the car. But wait," Turning, Dean narrowed his eyes at the Doctor. "Why are you three here?"

"The Doctor has something that can help Watson."

Rose informed, a smile wide on her lips as she stared at the man.

"I thought that's why _we_ were here."

"You don't have the key."

The Doctor stated, holding up the small silver item as Jack frowned.

"I would if you'd get around to making me one."

"Oi, frequent flyers only!"

"It's been weeks, Doctor. Besides, you gave Rose one!"

"She can be trusted."

"And I can't?"

"Don't flirt with the next moving creature you see, then we'll talk."

"Boys," Rose sighed, gesturing to the Tardis. "Shouldn't we get going?"

"The angels," Castiel spoke, forcing his weary body up from where he'd been sitting. "They're coming."

"We can't interfere with our past selves, that's asking for trouble. We have to wait, allow things to play out as they had before, then we can go."

The Doctor explained, peering out from behind a tree as Jack smirked.

"I look good from this angle."

"Oh, that'd be your dream come true, wouldn't it? Two Jack's."

"I think that's your dream, Doctor. Or maybe Rose's."

The man said, winking back at the blonde.

"In _your_ dreams."

She shot back, though the faint blush that ran across her cheeks told a different story.

"Look away from the Tardis."

The Doctor instructed suddenly, turning his back to the motel as Rose met the angel's stare before doing the same.

"Think those things will come this way?"

Sam asked, crossing his arms and turning as his brother reluctantly did the same.

"Doubtful, but we need a plan all the same. Or rather, bait."

Turning to look at the Winchester's, Dean met the aliens gaze and scowled.

"What, your first instinct is to sacrifice us? How convenient."

"Someone needs to keep staring at the angels so I can get inside my machine."

"Alright, have Captain Sparrow over there watch."

"He needs to come with me so once I get the salve he can go back to Watson."

"Well-"

"I'll go with you," Rose offered, turning to look at Dean with a firm nod before looking over her shoulder at the Doctor. "If two of us go, we'll stand a better chance, right? One person can watch while the other blinks, that'll give you more time, too."

"Rose-"

"It's a plan, and a good one. With us working together, nothing will happen."

She reassured him, taking a step back towards Dean as the alien shook his head.

"You and your _boyfriends_. Fine! But be careful."

"Boyfriend?"

Dean asked, arching his brows at the blonde who merely sighed.

"They're gone."

Jack spoke, pointing to the field where the angels stood gathered around the hunter's car.

"Let's get going."

The Doctor said, reaching into his pocket and grabbing the key from earlier as Dean and Rose exchanged a look.

"Let's go."

The hunter sighed, striding out into the middle of the parking lot as the blonde hurried to catch up with him.

"You're in for a treat."

Jack spoke to Sam, a glimmer of something in his eyes as the four quickly made their way towards the alien's machine. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel could see Dean and Rose standing a few feet apart, their eyes keeping watch over four stone angels.

"Watch your step."

The Doctor warned, unlocking the door to the box and pushing it open.

"Kinda small for.. oh.. my God.."

Sam's voice murmured out as the hunter stepped inside, followed by Castiel. The inner dimensions of the ship were enormous, completely different from the small exterior which didn't seem possible from the outside.

"It's huge.. it's, it's bigger on the inside but.. I don't understand how."

Sam stumbled out, turning around in a circle as he stared at the pillars that towered high above and around them as the hum of the engine caused a dull glow to appear beneath their feet.

"It's alive."

Castiel spoke with reverence, walking closer to a large control panel in the middle of the room where the Doctor stood grinning.

"Alive? I thought it was a machine."

"It is! But the Tardis is alive, just like he said. How'd you know?"

"I can hear it."

The angel spoke, his fingers outstretching and drifting carefully over the stand the panels sat in.

"Hear it?"

Jack questioned, brows knitting together.

"Just as I can see the souls of God's creations, I too can hear the echoes of a life, even one as strange as this. Can you not hear it, Doctor? It's calling out to you."

His head turned, looking straight at the man now as his expression sobered, the Doctor's fingers moving carefully over one of the panels.

"Sometimes. Not often, not in the way I'd like."

"Not to distract from this.. really strange moment, but aren't we supposed to be getting something for Dr. Watson?"

Sam spoke up, standing stoic in his place as his eyes continued to explore the machine.

"Right! The salve." The Doctor bounded into motion, moving to the other side of the controls and dropping to the ground. Grabbing ahold of a latch and pulling up a grate that was part of the floor, he dropped down and rooted around a moment before pulling up an old crate. "Bunch of nonsense I thought, the grand chief offering me such a thing. Never used it, even after all these years. At least it's getting use now, though."

He rambled on, digging through the crate before producing a small vile with a thick, purple substance inside.

"That's going to help him?"

"This can mend just about anything if given time. The people of Metallurgis 5 were quite the healers."

"Meta- _what_?"

Sam asked, his face contorted into a strange expression as Jack smirked, his hand falling on the Winchester's shoulder.

"You boys don't get out much, do you?"

"Are you telling me that there's actually life on other planets? Like seriously?"

"You think we were lying?"

"Lying, believing a delusion, working for the government."

Sam trailed on as Castiel stood quietly, his fingers still brushing against the console. The hum of the machine was straining, an old and long history, quite like his own, hidden beneath its surface.

"Humans are so pretentious, believing their specious is the only one out there. You're so vulnerable this way, yet no one bothers to change." The Doctor griped, walking over and taking Jack's wrist, his cylindrical device once more in hand. "One last trip and then this thing is done, understand?"

"You don't want to take the Tardis?"

"I've other plans for it, now can you shut up and let me work?"

"He's a big ol' softy underneath that gruff exterior."

The traveler assured Sam, a grin wide on his face as the droning from the Doctor's device echoed throughout the craft. It was strange, feeling the Tardis become livelier as he used the object, as if it were connecting to it in a way. It made the angel feel odd, as if he were treading on something he shouldn't. He'd never felt something quite as powerful as this, or rather he hadn't in a long time, not since he was a fledgling.

"There! One return trip."

The Doctor exclaimed, passing off the vile to the time agent who carefully slid it into his pocket.

"I'll go with you."

Castiel spoke suddenly, forcing his fingers away from the console.

"Cas, you sure?"

"I'll never turn down an offer from an angel."

Jack grinned, offering his hand out to him as Castiel stepped forwards.

"Yes. This machine is.. strange."

"It takes some getting used to."

The Doctor shrugged as the angel shook his head.

"No, it's not that. It's _loud_ Doctor. It's voice. It wants to be heard, so it's screaming for you to listen."

The statement has the alien falling into silence, his eyes drifting to the console as Castiel grabbed ahold of the time agents arm.

"Right, well, off we go."

Jack murmured, pressing a button on the band he wore as energy surrounded them and the two were stumbling forwards in front of the detective and army doctor.

"It's about time."

Sherlock snapped, rising from where he had been kneeled next to his flat mate. His coat had been folded carefully and stuck beneath the other man's head, the veteran lying unconscious on the ground with a dark stain along his arm that was seeping towards his chest.

"Move, let me see him."

Walking closer and kneeling down, Jack carefully peeled away the ripped pieces of fabric that the blood had partially dried too, tossing them off to the side and revealing the bloodied wound.

"What is that substance?"

Sherlock asked, peering closer as Jack took the vile from his pocket and pried open the top.

"That regenerative salve the Doctor had been talking about."

"I understand that, I'm not an idiot. What is _in_ it?"

"No clue. But if the Doctor says it will help, it will."

Before anything else can be said, Jack poured the contents over the wound, John flinching at the contact as the purple liquid glowed, spreading evenly across the entirety of the wound and seeping into his skin.

"Is it working?"

Castiel questioned, staring from afar at the three of them. It was nice to have silence in his head again, but he still felt guilty that his own powers hadn't been of use when they most needed it.

"Seems like it," Jack shrugged, closing the vile and returning it to his pocket before facing Sherlock. "But there's nothing more we can do until the Doctor shows up.

"And when exactly will that be?"

The detective muttered impatiently, folding his arms over his chest as the air around them shifted, a strange noise echoing through the air like a heavy wheezing as Castiel turned his head, the sound returning to his mind, poking and prodding to be heard.

"Right now."

The angel spoke aloud, watching as the strange blue box began to materialize right in front of them.


	16. Chapter Sixteen - The Doctor's POV

**A/N**

 **I'm making a real effort to try and post to all my fanfictions more. I'd really like to start a few new ones, but I'm refraining until I wrap up some of the older ones.**

 **Would anyone be interested in more SuperWhoLock, or any variation of the shows? I have a few more in the works, but I'd be curious to see if you guys have any ideas or anything you want to see, so let me know and send me a message or leave a comment!**

 **Also a big thanks to the super old comment I found online that explained why exactly Dean isn't able to just smash apart the angels, cause that almost happened!**

* * *

The quiet hum of the Tardis' engine trilled moments after Castiel and Jack left, leaving the Doctor alone with his machine and the more tolerable of the two hunters.

The Doctor's fingers brushed over the exterior of the console, the lights pulsating for the briefest moment before fading away again, the machine conserving its energy in the strange parallel world it had found itself in. What exactly did the angel mean when he'd said it was calling out to him?

Tapping his fingers against a panel, the alien stared at the various levers and knobs in contemplation. Should he spend more time alone with the old thing? He'd been traveling with Rose so much recently, and now with Jack, he'd barely spent any time with repairs or new additions. Was she feeling neglected?

"Hey, Doctor?"

The unfamiliar voice calling from the other side of the room distracted him from his thoughts, glancing up in irritation at the hunter who was leaning over the railing and peering down below.

"What?"

"Do all aliens have this kind of tech? I mean, how is this even possible, having such a massive area shoved into a tiny box?"

Turning to look at him, the alien almost smiled at the amazement on the man's face. It was always his favorite part, watching humans react to his machine.

"It's Time Lord technology. My people created it."

"But, _how_?"

"Dimensional transcendentalism." The Doctor offered shortly, taking a step closer to the brunette as his eyes narrowed, a question dancing around in his head that he'd yet to have been able to ask. "Was your brother really in hell?"

He could tell immediately that he'd struck a nerve, the man stiffening while his hands tightened around the bars of the railing. Sam's head turned a fraction, a sharp breath pulling out of him.

"Yeah, he was." He confirmed, turning around and leaning back against the rails, though his gaze remained firmly on the floor. "I died, and Dean, he made a deal with a demon to bring me back."

"How long was he there?"

The Doctor pressed, noting the guilty way the Winchester seemed to shrink in on himself. Was it because he'd done it to save his brother, or because of something else?

"Forty years before Cas pulled him out."

"Metaphorically, you mean."

"What?" That had the man turning, confusion etched across his face. "No, like, literally. Dean has an imprint on his shoulder of Cas' handprint." The answer hadn't been one the alien was prepared for, his mouth open a fraction as he tried to determine what to say next before Sam was moving to the doors. "They're still out there."

"Right, not for long though." The Doctor assured, bouncing back into action as he pulled the door open and popped his head outside. "You two just going to stand there all day?"

He shouted, watching as Rose's hand grabbed the hunter's arm a moment before she was turning to look at him.

"Do we come back now, then?"

"Not unless you plan on going back in time again, get a move on, haven't got all day!" He beckoned, ducking back inside his machine and bounding to the controls, flipping a lever up as the lights pulsated and the engine grew louder.

"Actually, we do have all day, but can't stand to wait about." He said, grinning madly at Sam as lights flickered to life all over the machine and the hunter watched in awe. "The old girl gets a bit out of sorts going to parallel universes now, but she's had a bit of time to rest, so she should be ready to go."

He explained, moving to the other side of the machine and pressing down a button and spinning round a dial. "Hurry up!" He yelled again, spinning a screen around to get a reading before he released a heavy sigh. "A cascade of Macra move faster than those two." He complained, moving back to the doors and yanking them open as Rose's back shoved into him. "There you are! Bit slow, aren't you?"

"You try walking backwards without blinking."

She scoffed, shoving her hand into his chest as Dean bumped into the other door.

"You sure this thing is big enough for all of us, Doc?"

Dean called out, his hand reaching around to feel for the opening as he backed inside. As soon as he was in, the Doctor pushed the door shut and gave him a roll of his eyes.

"Do I think it's big enough, you tell me."

Spinning the man around and pushing him forwards, he heard the audible gasp as a triumphant smirk rose to his face.

"W-Wha.. But I don't.. Sam?"

The Doctor walked up the ramp past him, the older hunter casting a questioning gaze at his little brother as he walked towards the console slowly while Rose stared in amusement.

"I know."

Is all the younger said, leaning back and watching his brother walk around the console and stand next to the controls.

"This thing is huge! How the hell did you cram it inside such a tiny box?"

"Time Lord technology."

The Doctor stated again, enjoying his shock despite the utter annoyance of the hunter's personality that clashed with his own.

"This, I gotta admit, is pretty damn cool."

Dean laughed, running a hand through his hair as he looked up at the ceiling.

"You should see the swimming pool."

Rose chimed in, receiving an equally shocked expression from both Winchester's.

"Hold on, you've got a swimming pool in here?"

Sam gaped as the Doctor grinned.

"Six, actually."

Dean shook his head slowly, dumbfounded at the machine as a loud banging from outside grappled for their attention.

"Doctor?"

Rose asked warily, her hands grabbing ahold of the console as the machine shook, a shadow passing over the windows by the door.

"Doc, I think those things are trying to get inside."

Dean warned, taking a step back as the Doctor flipped a switch, the lights flickering overhead.

"I know, don't worry about it."

"Don't worry? No offense to this awesome assed machine, but those wood doors won't hold through much more of this."

Dean pointed out, the machine shuddering again as another loud bang echoed from outside.

"Those doors have kept out the worst of the worst, trust me."

He stated calmly, pressing a button as the Tardis shook again, shifting to one side as Dean scrambled to grab ahold of something.

" _Trust_ you?"

"Yeah, trust me. I've got one of those faces, don't I?"

"No, you don't."

Dean answered dryly as the Doctor glanced at his reflection in the screen and frowned.

"I didn't used to have such big ears, you know."

"Doctor, now isn't the time!"

Rose yelped, her grasp on the console failing as the Tardis was shifted to the other side, the blonde losing her footing as Sam caught her and pulled her closer to him and against the railing. The Tardis let out a low thrum as the Doctor rolled his eyes.

"I'm aware, don't get like that with me, haven't you heard of patience?" Another toll as the man sighed. "Right, course not. Here we go then, hold on!"

Ducking around to the other side again, the Doctor spun around a wheel and pulled down a lever, the Tardis thrumming loudly as its iconic wheezing noise droned, the alien smiling as the shadow disappeared from the window and the Tardis set down heavily once again only moments later.

No one moved at first, the hunters' wary eyes meeting each other as Rose pulled away from the younger with a quiet thank you before walking closer to the doors.

"Well?"

"Go see for yourself."

The Doctor gestured, smiling triumphantly as his companion pulled open the door and peered outside.

"That's incredible!"

She cried, stepping fully out of the machine as the Winchester's followed after her.

"Now how in the hell did that happen?"

Striding out after the other three, the Doctor folded his arms and stared smugly in front of them. Where the Tardis had been previously, four angels stood frozen, each staring at another and permanently locked in place.

"They're all looking at each other, that's genius."

Sam laughed, stepping closer and walking around them slowly.

"Guess it was a smart idea."

Dean begrudgingly admitted, glancing at the Doctor who merely bobbed his head in response.

"Of course it was brilliant, two of the most brilliant minds in all the known universe came up with it."

"Whatever. There's a crowbar in what remains of my car," A pointed look was shot in the Doctor's direction, the hunter still angry about the damage. "We'll smash these things to pieces and be done with it all."

"No."

"What do you mean _no_?"

Dean demanded, glaring at the Doctor who dropped his arms and straightened out his jumper.

"I mean, no. It's not possible."

"It's stone, Doc, pretty sure if you beat it hard enough, it'll break. Hell, blowing it up will do the trick if nothing else."

"Don't be daft, when I say it won't work I mean it _won't work_."

The hunter seemed unable to speak for a moment, shaking his head and pointing at the alien.

"You do whatever the hell you want, but these things aren't going to be given another chance."

"Shooting it didn't work, what makes you think smashing it to bits will?"

"You know something I don't?"

Dean asked as the Doctor rolled his eyes.

"Always. They aren't stone."

"But you said-"

"They _look_ like stone, sort of like an after image. They're quantum locked, they literally cease to exist when being observed, leaving only the image of a stone angel behind. It's simply an impregnable substance."

"So what are we supposed to do, just leave this in the middle of the parking lot like it's nothing?"

"As time goes on, they'll grow weaker, unable to retrieve the energy they need and fading from existence. So yes, until then, they have a new, somewhat odd, sculpture."

The Doctor shrugged, turning away from the hunters and the statues as Dean grumbled behind him.

"Fine, whatever."

"I think that's the first time you haven't argued back."

Rose teased, her voice drifting back to the alien as he walked back to his Tardis, a tightness forming in his chest. She always did that, always thought the best of people and gave them a chance, even someone like that hunter.

Humans were so weak and vulnerable and foolish, and yet there was this girl, someone who went against everything he'd ever thought. Someone who went against his expectations time and time again and-

"Doctor!" Turning, the alien watched the blonde bounce into the Tardis, an excited grin on her face as she reached out and grabbed the console. "You did it, that was amazing!"

"You helped."

He said, smiling at her as she pushed the hair from out of her face.

"We should be getting back to the others, don't you think? We should check on Dr. Watson."

"Oh, yes. Go tell the Winchester's to hurry along."

The Doctor beckoned, the girl smiling wider before bounding back outside, calling for Dean as the Doctor began setting the coordinates. She really liked that hunter, for whatever reason. Was there a chance, did he dare even think she might go with him? Surely not, not when he had so much more to offer and so much more of the universe to show.

"So all this is over then? No more angels?"

Sam asked, walking inside the Tardis, his gaze still moving around as if he couldn't get over what he was seeing.

"No more angels, except for your friend at least." The Doctor assured, waiting for the door to close before flipping the final lever. "Now let's make sure Dr. Watson is still with us, eh?"

He asked, the Tardis' familiar sound a reassurance to his ears as he stared at his companion chatting quietly with Dean, that flirtatious smile ever present on her face.


End file.
